The Starting Gate
by Korat
Summary: Life has a funny way of throwing things at you sometimes that you would never expect. Either you learn to run with it, or you don't. G1, heavily OC based.
1. Chapter 1

The sudden glint of metal caught his sensors, and he hesitated briefly in mid-air. Targeted? Who would dare to be so-

Optimus Prime? Starscream reared back, his body frantically swerving as he tried to transform into his Earthen-mode of the F-15 fighter jet and regain the safety of distance.

The blast ripped through Starscream's chest, his wing, then lanced into the sky trailing wires and bits of charred circuitry. The Decepticon Air Commander howled in pain as systems went off line. Something was burning in his chest - he spit out a mouthful of green-flecked coolant foam, realizing with a sinking fear just how badly he had been hit. Attempting to transform, he felt a connector inside him wrench and slam into something else, locking him into his primary mode. He whirled in mid-air and turned to flee, the thrusters on the bottoms of his feet flaring azure-white as he poured all available power into them. They sputtered almost immediately and went out, leaving him confused and hovering there awkwardly as he analyzed the options available to him right now. None of them were good ones, he realized just as another shot caught him in the mid-section. He grunted, thrown back in the air as his balance-gyros went down, sending him plummeting earthward. He saw sky, solid earth, sky again as he sought to regain his equilibrium. "Damage too much - " he gritted to himself, trying to slow his wild free fall, but his body would not respond to the instructions he gave it. "Got . . . to get some altitude." He strained to turn himself, clawing frantically at the air with his hands as if he could find some sort of purchase there to stop what he understood would likely mark his death.

Treetops rose to meet him eagerly, branches snatching at his form to remind him of the power of gravity. When he smashed into the ground, all his conscious thoughts instantly slammed into blackness.

* * *

Starscream shuddered back on line with a moan that seemed to come from every inch of his battered form. He tried to sit up and sunk back to his crumpled position on the ground as each inching movement sent circuits into near-overload. On his back, his wings heaved and trembled, the trailing triangular edges deep in the dirt. He struggled to get them free, and they weighed him down, not responding to his mental commands to move, to even flick enough to loose them from the clinging earth. A snarl of frustration escaped him, and he clawed at the ground beneath him, struggling to get his leg underneath him and force himself up. Not a single system within him seemed to approve of this idea, and all he was finally able to do was raise his head, trying to get his bearings. Lots of the organic structures humans called trees met his gaze, trees and rocks. _Well, most of this blasted planet is either trees or rock_, he thought to himself bitterly. _This is an utterly_ _dismal little world_. His internal nav-systems were down, and he realized he had no idea where he was. _Let's see . . . last known coordinates were - and I turned where? No idea. Blast! _He managed to get an arm under himself and dragged himself partially upright.

Deep in his chest something shifted, sending him into a series of spasms that finished with him forcefully expelling out a black mouthful of partially processed fuel. It ran down a tangled mass of broken tree limbs, seeping into the pale, splintered ends until they appeared they'd been dipped in warm tar. Another spasm made him arch forward, and then back in a rictus of agony. Sparks shot out of his joints as he thrashed and kicked, then blessedly, the surges passed and left him dizzy and spent.

"Must have blacked out..." he groaned out loud, feeling gingerly under his arm at a tangled mass of wires and circuitry. They sparked when his fingertips made contact, and he winced. This wasn't just superficial damage. This could kill him - and although Starscream wanted many things, (leadership of the Decepticons, Megatron's head on a cybertronium-plated pike), he did not want to die.

The Decepticon struggled to heave himself up to his feet. His knee nearly collapsed under his weight, and the thruster in his heel flickered orange, crisped even the sodden green branches below it before it cut out with a sharp hiss. Vison began to blur as overtaxed systems fought for what little his body had left to give, and he took one sideways step, then another, his working arm clenched tight against his side, as if to keep his internals from slithering out of his plating and tangling around his feet. The next step he took sent his left wing panel smacking against a half shattered tree - it took only that for it to shear the rest of the way off his body and crash to the ground, sending up a explosion of dirt and stone. Starscream let out a chattering moan and slumped down again on his knees, as again, that terrible burning sensation worked up into his throat once more. He choked on another surge of internal fluids that spattered from his mouth onto the loam below him, and stared at it in disbelief and growing horror. "I've got to... uh - "

He pitched forward and thrashed as the involuntary spasms shook him from fingers to foot. Inside of his body, an automatic communications link began to steadily transmit his position and status, the only thing within him that was still able to perform a serious function.

* * *

"My Lord Megatron . . . Starscream's beacon has been found." 

"Where?"

"One hundred Earth-miles from the human city, Portland, Oregon. Coordinates 326-814. Send reconnaissance to retrieve?"

Megatron shook his head slightly as Soundwave brought up the coordinates on the screen in front of him. "Leave him there."

Soundwave inclined his head as he glanced back at his leader, the dark blue Decepticon impassively responding to his leader, his voice flat and monotone as he pointed at the screen where a green series of coded symbols flickered and offered their silent findings. Perched on it, a black and red metallic bird shifted his weight from foot to foot, and twisted his head to look at the screen with cold yellow eyes, appearing to read the information as well. "Starscream badly damaged. Doubtful that he can return under his own power."

Megatron smiled in return and steepled his fingers, the shadows cast from the brim of his helmet making his optics gleam like a banked smelter. Then he dropped his hands back into a dismissive, disdainful wave, thrusting a finger out at the screen. The bird hopped slightly aside at the motion, wings outstretched to keep its balance, even as sharp metal talons drew shallow gashes in the edge of the monitor. "Leave him. Perhaps he will show some of that ambition that he endlessly chatters about."

Soundwave nodded, reached over to turn off the receiver with a short, swift flick of his fingers. The blinking red light and the soft, constant beep went dead at the same time, leaving the screen before Soundwave grey and cold. The overhead lights reflected blue glints across the mechanisms standing there, and the blue, boxy mech offered a half bow, then turned aside.

"As you wish, Megatron."

* * *

"Here, Wolf!" 

Morning touched the forest in western Oregon with chill, pale light. The trees stood quietly, the deep green of the firs and pines almost a watery blue in the mist and the fog. The ridges of the Dalles stood out, the tips peeking over the mist in spots like the back of some sea monster emerging from a deep loch. The sun fought to break through, failed, and only hung overhead on the horizon as a pale, watery disk of silver light. The call of a crow echoed, harsh and discordant in the silence, and then another bird called back, perhaps a mountain jay that had found an easy breakfast and didn't wish to share it. A red squirrel scampered along a log and then sat up, tufted ears twitching nervously as its tail flicked back and forth in a flag of discontent. The small rodent's nose wrinkled at a smell it picked up, a smell that filled the wild country with the reek of civilization. Not the odors it understood - it dimly could recollect mechanical, oily whiffs from the human campsites below - but this sharp, acrid odor was completely alien to the animal. It put its paw down, lifted it up and put it down again, chittering softly to itself, obviously distressed. It inched nearer, shoulders hunched with tension as it flattened to the rough bark of a fallen oak. A shift and a groan from the heap before it caused it to turn and flee, not a brave creature, but one whose instincts had helped it avoid being lunch on a regular basis.

Obviously, this was one squirrel that would be swimming happily in the gene pool for generations to come.

Pine scent drifted from a clearing, and wafted along the air currents, reminiscent of walking into a Christmas tree lot, or getting into a car with an air freshener newly freed from its plastic prison. It wasn't the clean, light scent of the trees themselves; instead, it was the forceful odor of crushed and shattered plant life, mixed in with mud and churned dirt, a faint tinge of stale smoke lingering if someone had been burning green wood in a poorly vented stove.

Starscream heard the voice - the first one he'd heard in days, or was it weeks? He wasn't sure, time had passed in a blurred, constant buzz of light and dark and light again, followed by waves of pain and mechanical nausea, by systems flickering on line and off line with jarring abruptness. One moment, his hand wouldn't even move, the next, the small of his back went numb and his legs became nothing more than a weight that crushed him into the earth. The voice called again, urgent and worried now, drifting lightly through the sodden grey forest. Not a Transformer, the Decepticon realized. The modulation was all wrong, or maybe that was his audio receptors. He wasn't sure anymore, having lost too much power; his repair systems were struggling desperately to fix one problem before another occurred that he was surprised that any of his senses were functional.

"I said, 'here', Wolf. Come here, you crazy dog!"

There was the sound of dirt being disturbed in large arcs of spray, and something touched the mech's hand, clambered over it with the scrape of claws on metal. Starscream tried to move, to lunge, but nothing responded. He made a mental shudder of disgust as the thing breathed on him, the air from its mouth reeking of something long dead, then sniffed along his hand. The pointed muzzle nosed into the cracks between his joints, snuffling and snorting as it curiously explored the crannies of the Air-Commander's fingers, leaving wet, glistening splotches of drool on his blue plating.

"Wolf! Come!" the voice called out again.

With a solid, meaty thud, the organic leapt from Starscream's hand back onto the ground and let out a noise that was sharp and shrill. The mech's audio receptors shrieked with feedback. The pain in his head went from a dull throb to a flare. Inwardly grimacing, he made a mental note. Next time he saw one of those four-legged creatures the fleshlings called 'doggies' he was going to step on it. Really hard. He managed to turn his head so that he could see the beast. It had dropped to its haunches and was observing him curiously with a wet-looking pink grin, the pointed ears on its head quivering with excitement. Lifting a forepaw, it reached and touched him once again, claws scraping along his plating. His sensors grated again at the slight audio disruption.

The voice echoed as it came closer. There was a muffled whip noise, as if a thin branch had bent back and smacked into fabric. A muffled exclamation of pain followed, along with the sound of something struggling through the tangled huckleberries and salal of the forest floor. "All right, dog. I hope for your sake that Timmy really did fall down a well, because I'm going to swat you in the rump, otherwise, you stupid. . . ."

A human pushed out through the mass of fallen logs and broken branches, and stumbled into the clearing his crashing body had made in the canopy of evergreens. Starscream could see her - yes, it was a female, he decided, he'd noted enough of the humans to see the make out the differences - eyes widen as she looked at him, and then at the now-silent dog sitting a few feet from his face. The girl blinked once or twice, as if she was afraid perhaps that she wasn't seeing what lay there before her correctly; as if the mech and the shattered woods were not real, but some sort of movie set, where one expected the inevitable yell about standing on the floor mike. Carefully, she took a step back, her breath whistling out of her harshly in the silence.

"Wolf, I hope you realize that is not anyone named Timmy," the girl finally managed to say, her voice dropping down to a ragged murmur. "Here. Now." The dog realized that the human was serious, ran over to her and sat down at her feet with a swish of its brushy tail. A pass of her hand stroked its huge, triangle-shaped ears softly as she whistled low in her throat. She stood a moment, her hands moving to her pockets but not slipping within as she seemed to take a long appraising look at the situation. Then she seemed to straighten a bit, having made a decision, and her hands fell back down by her sides as she gestured to the dog. "Down. Stay."

The dog settled into the loam, his forelegs extended, paws crossed demurely across each other as his owner carefully maneuvered her way towards the twisted heap of metal. An unusual smell lingered thickly in the air, and the young woman sniffed, then knelt and touched the ground... then brought her fingertips slowly up to her nose. It was like the odor of gasoline, but sharper, more sweet, with a metallic tang that reminded her of tin. Fuel? Or blood? Perhaps something that was a mixture of both? The robot looked like it had long departed this world, crushed and mangled; the left wing - at least it appeared to be a wing- was gashed deeply down the middle, the edges of the tear as blackened and curled as paper thrown in a fire. Hesitantly, she moved a few steps toward it, the scattered branches under her feet cracking with each step. The dog whined low in his throat, the fur on his ruff coming up and raising across his shoulders, individual silvered guard hairs waving like grass stems in the wind with each twitch of nervous muscle.

Something bitter rose in the girl's throat and she swallowed it down. The robot had obviously impacted from above - looking beyond it, there was a crushed area of he woods; actually, a long, sliding arc of destruction that had torn the smaller trees from the ground, the shallow root balls twisting and twining as if they were frantically searching for a way to get back into the earth, to tip themselves back upright. Larger pines stood in stalwart contrast, the grey bark charred with deep, black stripes, as if a monstrous cat made of fire had sharpened his claws on them and moved on into the forest. The mechanism lay slumped on his chest and side, his dark face even more shadowed by the bend of his elbow; he had fallen with a defiant sneer on his lips and his left leg crumpled underneath him, knee at an awkward bend with two supporting rods that had punctured though the joint and shattered the protective plating.

Damage seemed to cover every inch of his metal body; seeping bands of criss-cross slashes where the trees had protested his arrival through their canopy. Culminating over all of it was over a smoking hole on the exposed side of his chest, near the yellow hued glass curve that ran down the middle of it. The edges of the wound punched jaggedly outwards as if someone had thrust a finger through a thin sheet of tinfoil.

The human had seen these things before, but only through the flat, colorful view of a television screen, and that had always made it seem as untrue as a Saturday morning cartoon. Giant robots just didn't seem altogether real, except in back Hollywood lots and bad overseas monster movies. However, this one lay here in the cool woods, steam rising slowly from the exposed bits of his internals; she could see it, smell it. Beside her, the dog shook his head, his brass tag jingling against his others.

It was then that she remembered that there were things like breathing she needed to do, and she drew in a sharp suck of air. It tickled the back of her dry throat and sent a small cough echoing over the clearing.

Starscream felt systems regain power suddenly, as if someone had thrown a light switch.

Without warning, he let out a ragged snarl. The young woman backed away, tipping her head back to watch as the behemoth before her moved, crimson optics dim at first, growing steadily brighter until the light washed over the shattered trees and made them cast long, spindly fingers of broken shadows. His dragging wings sent up gouts of earth, churning the mud and tree branches before him into a morass of destruction.

"Get out of... here-" Starscream hissed, as he wrenched his body up, supporting himself on his one good arm, his blue fingers clutching the earth. Each movement was drenched with agony, and yet the Air Commander refused to fall back. The human backed slowly up, one hand in front of her as if to shield herself from a blow. The dog leapt to his feet at the movements, barking and barking, his lips curled back to expose all of his teeth as he feinted forward and back, his tail hovering between wanting to tuck under the belly and raise over his back. Starscream's face twisted in pain as the noise echoed through his audio receptors, sharp and piercing, each sound making his systems overload as if they were composed of broken glass, jagged edges grinding in his mind.

"Wolf! Shut up!" the human suddenly ordered the dog as she read the expression on the machine's face for what it was, a grimace of audio agony. "Now!"

Wolf stopped in mid-bark, and Starscream gave an audible sigh as the flaring pain in his head subsided. Then his gaze turned back to the human.

She was staring at him with her eyes wide, and his optics narrowed into cold slits of disgust. He was Starscream, Lord of the Air - not some exhibit on display for some human's amusement. It infuriated him that this little sack of filthy organic goo was regarding his misery and his pain, and that she would even see him in this state of injury and humiliation. The dirt from the ground touched every inch of his plating, the smell of rotting leaves and dead things; he wanted nothing more than to tear himself way from it and into the open sky in revulsion and disgust. No Transformer would have dared to look on him like this. Decepticon or Autobot, he would have destroyed them for this insult, because he could almost hear the brazen, mocking laughter of mechanical derision. Chest heaving, he struggled a little farther up on his arms, green colored slime dripping from his mouth and down his chin in long strings. It left pools around him that the earth refused to soak up, the color catching the light as antifreeze would when stored in a steel drum. Diagnostic systems shot off a warning from nearly every circuit in his body, but he braced himself, refusing to admit defeat, refusing to fall foward and let the dirt embrace him, for pain to chase him into unconsciousness. "I said-get out of here-now!" he snarled, his torn wings rattling with each word.

"You're really hurt, aren't you?"

The human's voice was hushed, as if she was afraid that just talking would make this scenario real; that before her wasn't a giant, alien robot, but some figment of her imagination after spending a week in the woods with only a dog for company.

The massive heap of damaged being wrenched halfway off of the ground and shot her a murderous glare. Mud fell in thick clots from his canopy, and the sound of branches popping and tearing under his weight echoed through the clearing, causing the dog to startle and skitter behind the girl, long black nails leaving furrows in the chaff of pine needles. It growled nervously, deep in its throat, ears pinned back.

"Leave now, Earth-germ!" the Decepticon spat, fuel flecking the corners of his twisted sneer.

The girl raised her hands and stepped back a pace, but didn't give as much ground as she should have, considering the circumstances. The dog whined as she made a grab at the purple collar it wore and pulled it close to her knee, her grip so tight and twisted around the inch wide nylon band that it left white, bloodless tracks on her skin. "Er - no need to call me names. I mean, that seems sort of rude, under the circumstances."

Starscream hissed, his head lowering between his shoulders. "Are you threatening me?"

Her mouth fell open in shock, blue eyes going wide as she staggered back a step, pulling the straining dog with her. "Am I what? What do you think I am, crazy? No, never mind -" she held up her hand. "Don't answer that. I'm out here in the middle of the woods talking to a giant robot who looks like he wants to tear me apart. I am crazy." She frowned a little, lines wrinkling her forehead in a puzzled, pained expression. "Of course, my therapist... well, never mind. And, uh, no, I don't think that threatening you was really what I had in mind, trust me, honest." The girl inclined her head, looking at him, bringing her free hand up to rub her chin. Her fingers left a dirt smudge across her jawline; the dog made another noise in his deep chest and sat, then stood, then sat again, tongue licking his black nose in a nervous gesture, trying to relieve its stress. Quietly, the young woman spoke to it, telling it to settle, that everything was okay before she looked back up again. "I've seen you before, I think. Somewhere. Oh, the news... aren't you of those robots who blew up a power plant up north, in Washington State, led by Megazon or something?"

"Megatron," Starscream corrected her automatically. She rocked back on her heels, regarding him with fear and fascination mingled on her face. He curled his lips back and watched her, unsure of just what was going on. Humans were supposed to scream and run and scream more before they hid or died. This one was going against all human behavior patterns he'd ever analyzed. Well, that was easy enough to fix.

The Decepticon balled his fist, drew all his extra power into his arm, and lunged to smash her flat. The human looked up, but made no move to run as his hand descended to end her very existence. There was the oddest expression on her face. Instead of any sensible human reaction - begging for mercy, screaming - she just let go of the dog's collar and shoved the animal aside with the side of her knee. The dog, obviously having more sense than the human, ran as fast as it could away from her, tail tucked, eyes rolled back in his head, his ears flat to the sides like it had already been struck.

Starscream's blow stopped in mid-air, less than a meter from her body. It wasn't that he cared. It wasn't that he hadn't crushed other humans before, felt blood spatter through his fingers, fragile bones crumble into paste. It was that she was looking at him with a small, half smile on her lips, even if her face was now the deathly white of chalk. He could see her shoulders shaking, smell the reek of human fear, acidic and sharp in his sensors. Yet here she was, head tipped back, knees locked in place as she drew in a long, ragged breath, tendrils of her tangled, windblown ponytail drifting across her collar. She was standing, almost defiantly under his hand, and he supposed that he was not the best at understanding humans expressions - was that regret he saw there? No, that was not it, and when he looked at her again, her smile had gone oddly wry and color was slowly returning to her cheekbones.

"Why don't you flee?" he asked her slowly, genuine confusion on his face.

"Should I?" she asked. The only hint of her emotions was a slight rise and fall of her voice, the sound of breath drawn though her teeth once, then twice.

This time all he could do was stare at her, his mouth falling open. Slowly, his hand creaked open from the fist he had intended to crush her with, and he flexed his fingers with a heavy, mechanical creak. Servos ground against each other as a few pine needles fluttered down from the joints and landed in her pale hair with delicate precision. "Yes," he finally informed her firmly, his voice a deep rasp. "You should."

"You don't sound convincing," she offered, taking a deep breath and sticking her hands in her pockets, rocking back on her heels again. The fuel smell burned her nostrils, sweet and thick, almost like she was standing next to a pump at the gas station. If she watched the ground long enough, she could see the shimmer of the heavier air moving in thick, serpentine waves along the saturated clearing. The broken limbs of the Douglas Firs oozed sap that collected on the splintered ends of the wood like amber dewdrops; the sticky substance dribbled slowly down and turned pale red as it hardened in the touch of the chill morning air.

"I am second-in-command of the Decepticon cause. I don't need to _sound_ convincing," he snorted, air rising from his intakes and turning to steam. "You should be fleeing in terror, human."

"I'll try to keep that in mind, honest," she said, nodding her head. The Air-Commander supposed that she was most likely being sarcastic, and somehow that irked him even more. "What happened to you?" she continued quietly, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his fingers were creaking with tension as he set his hand back down..._To brace myself better,_ he told himself.

"What do you think happened? I got hit, you stupid organic."

Silently, the young woman shook her head and backed up a few steps, and then lifted her leg, propped herself up on a fallen tree, crossing her arms in front of her as she leaned forward slightly, resting her elbow on her thigh. Slowly, the dog appeared out of the brush, slinking back to her and wagging the tip of its tucked tail, appearing utterly abashed. The human called out to the animal, a soft tone of reassurance, and it sidled over to her, settling at her feet. She pulled gently on its ears, running the velvet fur through her fingertips. He saw her smile briefly, the dog at her feet looking up at her face and slowly dropping his jaw to grin back, panting, as if they shared some secret joke. He scowled, thinking the two beings were obviously discussing him and his situation and finding it humorous. "Where?" she asked finally, with a slight smile. "In the head? You're talking very tough for someone who's lying in the middle of nowhere waiting to die."

"I am not waiting to die," he coughed.

"Okay. You're not. I apologize," she replied, leaning a little farther forward, studying the damage done to his body, her nose wrinkling at the overpowering odor of burnt wiring and ozone.

Starscream curled his upper lip in warning, his fingers scraping through the loam, branches breaking again under his weight. "It's okay," she said in a surprisingly gentle tone, holding out her hands again. The dog stood up and scooted behind her again, watching him intently. "I'm not doing anything dangerous. Like I could really be a danger to you. One little human against you? Like you said, I should be fleeing in terror right now."

Now that was more like it, Starscream thought. His ego got the better of him, and he waited to see what exactly this human was going to do. He could always kill her in a few minutes if she posed any real threat. Humans were easily killed. He'd done it enough times himself, he supposed. They weren't exactly the most sturdy of creatures, and not the smartest. The girl studied him for a long moment, then ducked her head slightly, dug her toe into the forest floor. Old oak leaves crushed under her weight, the fragile leaf skeletons becoming a delicate lace latticework as the brittle brown returned to the earth.

"I have some tools in the Jeep back at camp. Want to see if I can help you out?"

Starscream's mouth fell open again, that being the last thing he expected to hear from this human. . "I-I thought humans only helped Autobots," he stammered, then his optics seemed to narrow a little, his face twisting with his second reaction. "What do you want from me?" he asked suspiciously, his raspy voice trailing off into a hiss.

Her head snapped up, and she took a slight step backwards, nervously. "Nothing," she assured him. "I just know what it's like to be stranded out in the middle of nowhere with nobody around, that's all. Been there, done that," she offered. Her gaze traveled skyward for a moment, and she squinted her eyes as she looked directly at the wavering disk of the half obscured sun. She blinked a few times, then brought her hand up to rub at the corner of her eye, feeling the water evaporate instantly on her skin as she drew it back.

"Sympathy never won a battle," he told her with a deep rasping wheeze that made his chest hurt. Something stuck inside of him for a moment, broke loose with a horrible mechanical popping noise. It was like the grinding of two huge gears with a piece of concrete caught between them

"Maybe not, but it might keep you from dying here," she replied after a moment.

"Perhaps." Starscream grudgingly admitted. He hated to show any sign of weakness, but he knew better than to disregard this opportunity. It was quite doubtful, even to him, that he might get another one before he went off line...and then his body would be left to rust on this backward little world, his sleek metal torn apart by the microbes and processes of this planet. It was a thought that sent a shudder of revulsion through his frame. His head turned just enough to see a patch of grey sky. Sky was where he belonged, and right now, he would do anything to be free of this earth, free of the constraint of gravity and the cloying stinks of the organic world beneath him. "Go back then and go to your vehicle, fix me, and I might let you live, human," he growled, lifting his fingers from the earth and flicking them like a cat forced to sit in a puddle of water. His optics flashed as a nagging thought in the back of his mind blossomed into understanding, and he swung his head ponderously back to glare at her, his lips curling into a snarl. "Betray my position to the Autobots and I will hunt you down and destroy you and everything you hold dear."

The girl seemed to stiffen, her narrow shoulders lifting with tension as she jammed her hands deep into her pockets , sliding her foot off the log. Standing quietly, she raised her head again and a strained laugh escaped her. "To be honest, the only thing I hold dear is this crazy dog of mine." She took her eyes off of the mech long enough to gaze fondly at the dog sitting nearby. It caught her look and wagged its tail again, sending pine needles and small pebbles flying. She rested her hand on the dog's head for a moment, fingers digging into the rusty fur as she scratched behind the triangular ear. The animal's eyes fluttered closed with pleasure, then opened again as she spoke. "Nobody else, really. Hey, I'll do what I can if you quit threatening me every two seconds. What's wrong with you, anyway? Don't you trust anyone?"

"No," he snapped flatly. "I don't."

The human shook her head, and her mouth tightened into a small line of understanding. "Yeah, I know how that is. Way of the world. Guess even other worlds." She turned and started to leave, trying to pick her way through the underbrush and branches without getting caught up again. The dog rose instantly to his feet to gambol after her. The pointed muzzle sniffed along the edge of a fallen log until he found the perfect spot to cock his leg and declare the tree for his own territory. A vole suddenly dived into the leaf litter, stirred up by the dog's movements, and the dog once again let out a series of shrill, delighted yelps and began to chase after the rodent, jaws snapping frantically, but missing over and over again. All the animal came up with was a mouthful of fir needles and oak leaves, and those stuck to the sides of his pink tongue. He pawed at his mouth and slobbered, then completely forgot about his problem before diving back after the rodent again, who'd taken the opportunity to escape and was now probably laughing from under the log at the stupidity of all things canine.

"Take that blasted dog-thing with you too," Starscream griped, his voice taking on a petulant tone, almost a whine. "Its barking is giving me a headache."

She laughed at that, a surprisingly light and cheerful sound as she pushed a huckleberrry bush back from her face and moved past. Looking over her shoulder, a long lock of hair fell over her left eye, and she shoved it back with the heel of her palm. It stuck to her damp forehead to lay plastered flat and limp against her skin. "Well, he does that to me sometimes, too. Wait until he sees a rabbit or something, it gets worse. Come on, heel, Wolf."

The dog snorted out a snout-full of dirt and obediently followed her into the woods. He could hear them breaking brush for long minutes until he half drifted back into that stupor of pain. Starscream braced himself, his optics shining steadily as he watched them go, and when he couldn't hear them any longer, he let the darkness drag him back into that place where there was no hurt.

* * *

"Um . . . hey . . . " 

Starscream jerked back on line, reared up halfway in surprise at the tap on his arm. His hand shot out, and his null-ray took aim at -

"Whoa! Hold on, wait a second!"

Starscream looked down. The human and the wretched dog were back. She was carrying a red tool box, obviously heavy. She put it down and rubbed her shoulder ruefully, then wiped her hair out of her eyes, using the sleeve of her flannel shirt to pat the sweat off her forehead. The dog sat behind her, panting heavily, but since it had to use the effort to breathe, it couldn't bark. He wondered if that was the trick to make it stay silent. No, that trick was to throw it as hard as possible into a sheer rock wall. "I was able to get my car most of the way up here. They don't really upkeep these old logging roads, you know. Not that I mind that much - I like camping where it's remote. No one to yell at me if I let the dog off of the leash. Er, sorry. Talking to myself, I'm really good at that. So, where should I start?"

He let his scanners take precious power and traced the area. Nothing. He felt a slight shock at the fact that he hadn't been betrayed. He'd expected to see the whole blasted Autobot convoy rolling up. Not another transformer for miles, and he relaxed a little bit, letting the exhaustion he felt get the better of him. "You could start by not prattling on endlessly," he snapped, but even he knew it sounded halfhearted. "However, to answer your question, my internal systems took most of the hits."

"You really know how to make friends and influence people, don't you?"

"I don't have friends," he sniffed.

"Really? Huh. That's surprising."

"What?"

"Nothing," she said a toss of her head that sent her sodden ponytail flicking across her shoulders. "Well? I can fix some things on the Jeep, and I'm fairly handy around my apartment, but--I have no idea where to begin on you. If you give me directions, though, I can maybe manage."

Starscream eyed her skeptically.

"You think I-the glory of the Cybertron War Academy am some sort of human appliance that you can fix with a wrench?"

"Well, I fixed my Atari once. That's kind of like you."

The Deception shook his head. He had no idea what exactly an 'Atari' was but it sounded much more complicated than the standard human devices. Maybe this could work after all. If she could just get his main power systems reconnected, he'd be able to get out of this predicament, and back to headquarters. Then he'd have words with a few of his illustrious compatriots for ignoring his emergency beacon. It suddenly came to him then, the realization that something should have been done long before this. "Megatron . . . " he hissed as he comprehended what the most likely scenario was. He'd been left to rust on this forsaken little world. Around him, the trees speared the sky, the sodden scent of the earth with its soup of organic odors made his lips curl back in disgust. The faster this happened, the faster he could return to his vaunted sky and look down with derision on those things that crawled on the land below.

With a sudden flare in his vermilion optics Starscream forced himself to sit slowly upright. His one still remaining wing tipped back to support him as he struggled to bring his knee out in front of him. He blew a blast of air out of his intakes, and water droplets condensed on the brim of his helmet, then ran down his cheek and dripped down his chin. Around them, the sun tried harder to break though the clouds, failed, and turned the forest a dismal grey. Slowly, he extended his hand to the human, palm up. "Get on," he rasped slowly. "I'll need you to reconnect some of my peripheral systems to restore power to some of my nonessential systems. Most of it should be fairly easy, even for a human."

The girl glanced up at him. "You had better hope so," she muttered to herself as she stepped into his hand. He made a face of disgust as her weight settled into his palm, and she had to reach out a hand to brace herself on his curving fingertip. The metal was cold under her touch - in fact, it was slick and wet, and seemed to suck the very heat out of her skin. She shivered slightly, shifting her weight slightly from foot to foot, and made a low noise in her throat as the machine lifted her from the ground. She closed her eyes, feeling the pit of her stomach roil as the machine lifted her from the forest floor.

"Wolf," she told the dog suddenly, half opening one eye. The animal was a black and tan blur below, his head tilted back, ears cupped forward. "Stay, boy."

The dog settled down to the forest floor with a sigh, stretching his nose across his paws. He had the feeling it was going to be a boring day after all.

* * *

Starscream lay on his back as the girl worked silently at the mess inside his chest plate. He stared up at the darkening sky, the pinprick of lights that he could pick out between the cloud cover, here and there. Stars, a thousand different spatters of pale blue, gold, even dull, struggling white. Once, he had flown among them - now he felt like he could just reach up tonight and grab one, crush it to dust between his fingertips. The power that he had the possibility of holding made him shiver with anticipation. Nothing else mattered but that. He'd return, and plot, and wait for Megatron to make a fatal mistake. _Hopefully_, Starscream thought, _I will be that mistake that kills him. I want to feel his throat shatter between my hands for what he did to me . . . _

On his chest, the human let out a muffled curse and brought the back of her knuckles to her mouth and sucked off the blood that welled up between them. It flickered across her tastebuds, as sharp and bitter as licking a copper penny, and she rolled her tongue around her mouth, trying to make the taste dissipate into the rush of saliva that filled her mouth. She cast her gaze over the side of the mech, wanting to spit it out, but decided that it was the more polite thing to do to just swallow the mess. Her throat moved and as it slid into her stomach, everything tightened and let her know just how hungry she was. Unfortunately, she wasn't in a position to get down from where the mech had set her, and she licked the back of her hand again, using the warmth of her mouth to make the oozing cut stop burning in the cold evening air.

Long shadows had fallen now, the sun never able to break through the haze of the grey forest. A light rain slicked them both, plastering the girl's bangs to her forehead, and streaking grey soot and clean lines of fuel down the mech. Starscream found that he'd lost his train of thought as he lowered his gaze to look at her. Unable to fathom why he hadn't just killed the blasted little pest right off, he frowned slightly. True, she had come back and was poorly attempting to help him, but he had no use for humans. They did sort of make a funny noise when one hovered over them and started shooting, but other than that the only thing that he could see them being useful for was slave labor. He wasn't a soft, human-loving Autobot lackey, he was a ruthless and powerful warrior. Who, just happened to be rather sidetracked at the moment. Starscream equated the fact that he hadn't felt really like killing her to his confused state of thinking after the damage he'd taken. He decided that he might rectify that slight oversight when he was fully operational. Then again, maybe not. What could one pitiful human do to him? He could destroy her anytime.

"You know -this doesn't seem to be working right." She told him suddenly, tapping on his chest plate with her flashlight. The drizzle bounced off the end of the beam, shattered the light a thousand places. Even though it was lying down with its head on outstretched paws, the dog perked up both ears at the noise; then realized that she still wasn't coming down and let out a long, shuddering sigh of boredom, wedging itself deeper into the dry area under a falling log. The pine needles under the dog's nose flew a few inches away with each puff of breath.

"What?"

"This here -" she indicated a bank of fused circuitry with a nod, and knelt down again, shaking her head as she gingerly slid her hand past the jagged fingers of metal. This time, she managed not to skin her knuckles; so she tried jiggling a wire or two, and was only rewarded with a slight loss of sensation in her fingertips as it sparked. She let out a short yelp and then pulled back, shaking her hand to try and force feeling back into it. Sensation came slowly, prickling with a thousand jabs as if she was clutching a pincushion tightly in her hands. "I don't think I can do anything with this, so I hope it wasn't anything you really needed. Maybe you're lucky and it's just a turn signal or something."

"Leave it then!" he snapped indignantly, and she nearly dropped the flashlight down the open hole in his chest. "I don't know why I even bothered to let you help me. Any Transformer could have fixed me by now! You couldn't even fix a Cybertronic roto-rat!"

"I'm sure I couldn't," she said with a sigh, giving him a long-suffering look.

Starscream leaned up a little, elbow creaking under his weight. She had to grab hold of his chest panel to keep from slipping. Her fingers dug into the edge of a thin crack, turning white under the pressure she was using to hold herself there and to not tumble to the ground. The tool box she'd been using didn't have the pleasure of opposable thumbs, so it slid off the flat of his chest and crashed open on the ground. The dog yipped and scooted farther under the log as a socket set went flying past his muzzle, silver bits raining down like metal hailstones. Slowly, the Decepticon shook his head, an odd expression on his face.

"Who are you, human? You don't act like any of the other humans I've met."

"Really? How many have you met?"

"Many," he said with a tone of authority. Then he rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful. "Of course, they've all been pleading for their lives, but -"

"Maybe that's the difference," she offered with a lopsided grin.

"Perhaps," he mused as she started to slide off his chest, finally losing her grip on the slick metal. The broken trees below eagerly reached up to snatch more prey and she scrabbled for another handhold. Without thinking, Starscream slipped his hand under her and lowered her to the ground. She hopped off, knelt and started to pick up her tools, throwing them back into the box, trying to find most of them in the fading yellow beam of the flashlight she ended up holding in her teeth.

"You didn't answer my question," he reminded her after a moment, scowling and clenching his fingers.

"Mmm? Didn't - question?" she muttered through a mouthful of flashlight handle, still hunting for one last socket. He could barely understand her, and his head inclined, his dark mouth flattening into a frown. The girl sheepishly grinned around the plastic hilt of the illuminating device, and then coughed, choked, and spit out the flashlight into her palm. He made a face of distaste, and she chuckled, wiped the grip off with her sleeve and tried again. "I'm sorry. What was it? The question, I mean?"

"I asked what you were. What are you called?" he repeated slowly, speaking as if she was incredibly simple. Which, humans were, in his opinion. The roto rats of Cybertron were smarter, frankly. They fled the minute he approached, while the humans had a tendency - a fatal one, to gape and point.

"Called? Oh. My name. It's Rachel. But. . . if you want, I guess you could call me Dart. It's up to you. I even answer to 'Hey, you!'"

"Dart?"

She laughed, ducking her head in embarrassment. At her motion, the flashlight beam danced around the shattered clearing, throwing shadows behind the two of them that resembled an ocean of waving spears. "You know, I guess it's funny. See, I used to sprint in college before I had an accident." Her mouth drew into a tight line, and a wistful, far off look crossed her features. Her voice dropped into a softer tone - if he hadn't have had sharp audios, it might have been swallowed in the hush of the rain. "It went like this. Two kids - well, they weren't really kids , they were my own age, I think - in a car , and a road full of wet leaves. I mean, it wasn't even my fault. I was on a bike, you know, coming home from school back to the apartment. It was dark - I always wore the reflective stripes, but I guess when you're drunk, it doesn't matter."

She shifted her weight again, uneasily from foot to foot and flexed her knee with a slight grimace. "I got thrown about twenty feet, but got lucky, or thought I did until I tried getting up. Couldn't walk. Tore up the tendons in my right leg, pretty much snapped them in three places. They tried to fix it, but it didn't work well. I even went to the sports medicine department at my school. . . two operations later, I guess I finally got the hint. I don't run much anymore. I miss it."

A slow stretch of her leg, and Rachel automatically brought her hand down to rub her knee through her muddy jeans, thumb and forefinger pressing on either side of the joint. Under the denim, an ace bandage shifted slightly at her touch, a drop of sweat slid from beneath the supportive fabric to trickle down the back of her calf. She ran her fingers in slow circles for a long minute, and took a few deep breaths, the flashlight illuminating the ground. The dog thumped his tail from underneath the log, but didn't bother to get up. It was dry under there and he was warm, nestled in the pine needles and leaf litter.

Starscream listened to her voice, and tried to make sense of her words. "The knee?" he finally ventured, thinking he'd figured out what she was referring to.

"Huh? Oh, no no... there was nothing they could do for the knee. You can't even have a surgical replacement if you're my age, because they wear out. You can only do it twice before they amputate your leg- there's not enough bone left to screw the plates for a replacement into after the second time - so, I'll enjoy the fact I can jog every once in a while, but. . . I just miss running. I was a sprinter, fifty yard dash, and the hundred, sometimes, when they needed someone to fill in for an injury. I was on the track team at the U for a two years before the accident. I even tried for a while to distance run with the guys, you know, to get up my endurance. The coach recommended I do it, just to build up my wind. Well, that and one of them was terribly cute. I admit it. I had an ulterior motive."

That, he could understand. The rest of her words had just trotted past him like a herd of sheep - one giant wooly sea of individual phrases that were so much alike it wasn't even possible for him to discern individual thoughts. Well, except the last one.

"Everyone has an ulterior motive."

"Well, of course we do, but it catches up to us sometime. I was terrible at the distance runs, though. I'd last half a mile and end up standing there gasping like an idiot and having to walk out for half an hour. So, the guys started teasing me, giving me a bad time, you know. It was a silly little nickname, but it stuck."

"Stuck?"

"Stuck. They called me Dart, and then other people started calling me that, and I started responding to it, you know? My friends all call me Dart. So, I guess you can too."

"Personally, I find 'Ray-chel' much more silly than 'Dart'," the Decepticon mused as he absentmindedly pointed at a tool she'd missed with one huge fingertip. She fumbled on the ground, and it slipped through her wet fingers twice before she could pick it up and toss it back into the toolbox with a clatter. She rubbed her hands together, then stuffed each one under the opposite armpit as she finally found a dry spot underneath an unbroken pine and shivered.

"How about you?"

"Me?" he wondered. "I told you, I find Dart a more appropriate name than- "

"Not that. Your name is -?"

"Oh. Starscream."

"Pleasure to meet you, Starscream."

Odd. He couldn't really recall when someone had said it was a pleasure to meet him in a long time. _That Autobot who had you pinned down that one time up on Cybertron, maybe?_

Dart straightened up with a sigh, lifted a hand to push the soaking hair out of her eyes. The light form the flashlight brightened and dimmed as she swept it across his form; brilliant blues and red, long lines of soft, scuffed grey. Slowly, she reached down and closed the tool box, hefted it in one hand. "I don't think there's much more that I can do without some other supplies. I've used up all the electrical tape in this box. And, although duct tape can hold the world together, I don't think it will help you much. Not to mention it's getting too dark, and this flashlight is going to give up the ghost in a bit. I could go back into town and get what I need, but I don't think you ought to stay here if I do."

"Why?"

"Mostly because you left a trail of destruction about ten miles wide. And I bet someone besides Wolf can find you if they just looked around."

Starscream admitted to himself that she had a point. All it would take was a reconnaissance mission by some Autobot and he'd be a sitting target with no weapons systems functional. Not exactly what he wanted to happen. Not when he was so close to getting out of here.

"I think I can get up," he said.

"Take it slow," she offered. "Just be careful."

Rather surprised by the concern in her voice, he glanced down at her, frowned a little. Then, he snorted a plume of air out of his intakes; heaved his good leg under him and rolled to his hands and knees. Dart used her free hand to take a grab for dog's collar, towed him back out of the way as Starscream struggled painfully to his feet. The dog barked and yelped; short staccato bursts of excitement as he lunged against her hand, front paws lifting off the ground. Servos whined and popped, the Decepticon felt something wrench, then crunch deep inside of his shoulders, but he managed to haul himself upright, swaying slightly.

"Are you all right?" Dart asked.

_No, stupid human, _he thought to himself,_ do I look all right?_

It came out of his mouth as, "For now."

"I'll follow you so I know where you'll be. See if you can find somewhere to rest that you feel comfortable. It's going to take me a day to drive down into town, then get back. I really need some sleep."

Starscream took a slow, grating step and felt tree limbs crack and pop under his weight. The rain ran in rivulets out of his shoulder guards, sluiced down his chest like a modern water sculpture. Around them, the tips of the undamaged firs drooped, so saturated with rain they hung like a tired horse's tail at the end of a long afternoon of work. "A day? How far is this 'town?'"

"About eighty miles from - watch your step - here."

"Eighty Earth-miles? Can't you just fly there? I could. It would only take -":

"In case you didn't notice before, I can't exactly fly."

"What if I threw you?" he suggested to her darkly.

She raised an eyebrow, and then she chuckled, shaking her head. The dog shook himself twice, right down to his tail tip - water drops flying sideways to collide with those falling from the dark sky. Dart let go of the dog's collar and tucked her hands back into her pockets, and the animal looked up at her and panted, his teeth gleaming like ivory in the dimming beam. "If I didn't think you might be serious, I might take you up on that. You were kidding, weren't you?"

Starscream inclined his head slightly and contemplated her. Then, as a wry grin slowly spread across his features, his optics lit the area up with a wash of light that helped the girl pick her way over a deadfall or two. The dog bounced beside her, sniffing at the ground once every few steps. A rabbit that had been tucked under a log flushed at the touch of the dog's breath; it shot out from under the log into the darkness, fur plastered against its flanks. The flashlight beam turned the animal's eyes a glittering ruby as it flattened its ears back against its back in terror. It flung itself into the salal, water spraying into the air as the dog tore after it in hot pursuit. The bushes rustled and snapped, and the dog's whines of frustration filled the air, deep and shuddering until she whistled and brought him circling back. The girl snatched at the dog's collar again, as she glanced up at the robot towering over her. She hefted the tool box up more, then angled her head, hesitated. A short laugh finally escaped her.

"You were kidding. Wow, the guy shows a sense of humor he had hidden in that metallic body after all."

"Pah," the Decepticon spat, looking away from her and directing his attention on the poor terrain as he dragged his leg behind him, plowing up furrows of muddy earth.

* * *

"Is that helping?" 

Starscream rotated his arm once again, and nodded. "It seems to be."

"Good. I don't know if there's much more I can do."

"Doubtful," he agreed. "All I can do is a wait for my repair systems to finish what they can. However, there isn't much more I can do without raw materials. You seem to have done well, human. Your skill surpassed what I thought you capable of." Starscream flexed his fingers once again, metal whining and grating until lubricant was forced through the joints again. He'd had to tell her over and over again what to do in some spots, and he sighed, letting the last of the frustration seep from him since she was no longer fiddling with things inside him.

"Thanks, I think."

The Decepticon let out another long sigh and rested his chin on his hands as he stared out over the thick forest. _What has it been? Days, I think. At least I can move now, and all it will take are a few repairs that the little organic can't help me with, and then I'm on my way back. _A faint, cold smile touched the corner of his mouth. _You thought you'd seen the last of me, Megatron. What, you thought you'd leave me to my fate and expect me to die? Heh. Well, you thought wrong. _The rock outcropping he leaned against was starting to darken with the long shadows of the twilight. Dart looked up at him and offhandedly patted his leg in a gesture of reassurance, perhaps, or even comfort. Starscream twitched at her touch, looked down at her as he shifted his leg a little off to one side. She sighed, wiped her forehead with the edge of her coat sleeve, and then half closed her eyes. Deep scratches marred her hands, a testimony to the amount of times she'd shoved them into his body to twist wires and tape fuel lines. He frowned slightly, then felt her carefully lean up against him, the last of the roll of electrical tape trailing from her hand. Again, he started to move, and then he was intrigued by something; the odd warmth of her shoulder against his metal, like a low-powered torch. He hadn't known that humans were so warm to the touch. Oh wait - yes, that's right - last time he'd picked one up to throw it, he thought it had been that warm. Had it been on fire? He honestly couldn't remember.

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" she asked, making him stop his rather gruesome pondering.

He focused his gaze on her, head slightly tilted. He didn't know why he felt like talking to her, except that when he spoke, she didn't, and he was relieved not to listen to her prattle on. "I don't know if I'll be able to keep aloft," he admitted after a few minutes. "I refuse to go back to headquarters like some dirt-eating Autobot. Not after they left me like this. Not after he thinks he's won."

"He?"

"Megatron. Our illustrious leader."

"You really think they left you here to rust away or whatever it is you guys do when you die, don't you?"

There was a silence that stretched between them. The only sound was the dog's panting as it lay on the ground and stared off into a spot in the air, contemplating dust motes only it could see. Finally, she cleared her throat with a soft cough. "Honestly, I'd wait until I could fly back too."

"You would?" he couldn't keep the surprise from his voice.

"Actually, yeah. I think so."

She half-smiled at him, and he settled back against the rock outcropping, his hands behind his head. His tattered wing served to prop him up comfortably at least, even if it no longer functioned for its intended purpose. Silence again reigned between them; she bent and stroked the dog's head again, her fingers tangling in the rough fur that made up the animal's heavy ruff. The russet tipped hair was warm, and she closed her eyes and dug her hands deep into Wolf's undercoat.

In a way, she didn't know why she had stayed - there were all the logical reasons to go... the first of all being that he'd threatened to smash her flat. She turned reasons over in her mind, and found herself confused by them all, so she finally gave up and decided on a safe course of action, opening her eyes slowly to the sliver of red sunset on the horizon. "Weather's better. And, the sunset's nice tonight."

The mech glanced up, frowned slightly. He didn't know why he hadn't smashed her flat, and even he'd been turning over reasons. So, he too decided on the safe course of action. Apparently, commenting on the weather was a universal conversation starter. "Hmm. The cloud cover does rather catch the rays of your star very nicely."

"You managed to over analyze that, you know," she quipped back, her voice struggling to imitate the mechanical tones of his own.

A snort of surprise escaped him. Then, Starscream laughed, and the sound was harsh to his audio receptors as it bounced out over the forest. Abruptly, he stopped, looked sharply around as if he'd been caught with the barrel of his null-ray to Megatron's head. He was used to laughing, true, but not like that. Not a laugh that was without a faint hint of hate and sarcasm - it rang odd in his audio receptors.

"I did," he agreed finally.

"Don't worry about it," she offered with a grin as his laughter trailed off.

"I actually wasn't," he replied.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Because," he responded, extending his hand down to the ground.

She glanced up at him, unsure, and he frowned and flicked his fingers in a come-hither gesture. Carefully, she stepped through the underbrush to clamber lightly into his palm, clutching his fingertip for balance. The dog started to follow, but he pulled his hand up sharply when it attempted to place its filthy paws on his plating. The dog whined and barked as he began to pick her up, running around in a circle below, crossing over the border of minor annoyance and racing towards the one where he accidently dropped a boulder on it.

Not that it truly mattered right now - the Decepticon was so utterly covered in grime and dried fuel that earlier he'd been starting fastidiously down at his chest and wondering if he'd just blasted well get a new chestplate built when he got back to the base; he doubted the stains and abuses of the attack would ever be fully removed from his plating. The trees had left their mark as sure as Prime's rifle, and that was an indignity the Autobot leader would pay for. Starscream had a sort of mental list he kept - mechs and things that he would have his revenge on at some point in his existence. Mostly, that list consisted of Megatron and the other Decepticons - but now Prime had shot up fifteen spaces to trot at Megatron's heels, right after the blasted energon dispenser that refused to give him his rations for three days in a row, citing "numerical differences" in his passcode.

Her light weight shifted in his grasp as she rocked from foot to foot, struggling to balance. He frowned and then quickly curved his fingers up around her, not touching her, giving the impression that she was some sort of glass paperweight cradled in his cupped palm. She cast a wary glance down at the ground as he brought her up, held her level with his shoulder. "Here."

The girl's mouth opened slightly, and she started to scoot forward towards the flat edge of his shoulder. A thought seemed to strike her then, and she glanced back at him, offered up a polite smile.

"Er, you don't mind?"

"Get off before I drop you," he muttered.

Dart scrambled off his hand, the edge of her sneakers squeaking as she scooted off his hand and clutched the edge of his shoulder guard, her fingers finding the small seams in his plating to steady herself. Once she had managed to make herself comfortable, she clung quietly to his shoulder, staring off over the color washed forest. The still damp branches were touched with gold at the tips; and the deep blue green of the firs gave way to the brighter yellowish-tinge of the oaks, the flicker of nearly translucent lime of a vine maple stretching out into the fading sunlight as if to trying to outdo the glow. In the distance, when she shaded her eyes with the flat of her hand, the shimmer of a far off lake danced like a pool of flame, curvetting through the valley. The snow capped rise of a mountain gleamed soft indigo, reflecting the sky above. She frowned, tried to place which peak it was, through the clouds, and finally decided it either had to be St. Hillary or Mt. Hood - and then a ray of red illuminated the crater, blown out of the top of the mountain so that it appeared that some deity had taken an ice cream scoop to it to make himself a volcano sundae.

Well, it had been a Sunday, now that she thought about it.

St. Hillary.

She'd hiked up there in the past, had always loved the cool trails of that mountain. When the ominous rumble started in late 1982, her nose had been glued to the television and the news like every other student in the state. A volcano in your back yard was fascinating; to watch that softly rounded peak vent spirals of steam; water from the melting snow and ice slicing hard channels into the pristine white glaciers; the news crews walking into forests silvered with ash and snow, whispering in hushed tones to each other as if they expected the peak to listen in and react accordingly.

It came early on the latter day of the weekend, a clear May morning, when the elk had stepped lightly through the meadows on the lower part of the volcano, the lake reflecting the peak, as silver and flat as any mirror. She'd been in bed, reading a book, when the glass rattled in the house. Reflexively, she'd yelled at Wolf to stop chasing the squirrels that liked to taunt him by dashing back and forth on the spindle rail. The poor dog's head had snapped up so fast she'd heard him thwack himself on the bottom of her bed. It was only after she'd taken a shower, made a potful of bad tea and poured herself a bowl of Frosted Flakes that she'd flicked on the televison and seen the explosion shattering the peak - still roiling out a twisting column of ash. Lighting danced around the turbulent swirl of black and grey, the massive explosion creating its own weather patterns with the blast of heat and the statically charged particles drifting into the atmosphere. Hours, the explosion continued for hours - and when it was over, with it had changed a lot of things.

Including the appearance of aliens.

No, they hadn't crashed to earth - it was common knowledge now that they'd appeared around the same time as the entire north face of St. Hilary had thrown itself into a tumbling, seething wall of mud and stone, a lahar traveling to smash into the rivers; carrying a morass of trees and houses. Rumors had flown with the appearance of the robots. Publicity stunts for a Hollywood movie topped the list, followed by the end of the world, or that the true gods had appeared to come and take back their planet.

Standing on this mech's shoulder, staring off at the mountain, she tightened her fingers between the cracks in the red metal and tried to think of what to say yet again. A thousand questions ran through her mind, many of them directed at herself for this entire situation. So, once again, she squinted her eyes against the glare and smiled a little, her voice wistful.

"This is beautiful, you know?"

"It is? I rather doubt that."

With a frown that turned his mouth knife-edged, Starscream looked up and out over the woods. The last light brought the sharp, staccato bark of a coyote, echoing over the rock columns of granite and feldspar. A bird heading to roost called out to the evening, "kill-deer, kill-deer" as it flew towards the gravel of its nesting grounds. A small, derisive rumble escaped from deep within the mech's chest.

"Actually, where I come from, the spires of metal touch the sky, gleaming with the light of a thousand stars. Flying there is a release unlike any I've had here. The canyons between the spires are so deep you can dive through them until you can feel the gravity pull at you, call you down into the darkness that is echoed by the depth of the blackness among all the galaxies . . ." He suddenly realized something and turned his head - the human was silhouetted in his vision, a blur in the corner of his optic. The mech's sensors adjusted, and the girl jumped into focus, her light brown ponytail rustling over the shiny grey fabric of her windbreaker. "Dart?"

"What?"

"You're quiet," he observed, a sour note cracking through.

"I was listening to you."

"You were?" he wondered, rearing back. She yelped and clung to his shoulder guard, dug her fingers deep into the crevasses of his seams as her sneakers slipped on the slick metal, wrenching her leg out from underneath. A hiss of pain escaped her as her body twisted back on itself. Starscream's hand came up and his fingertips pushed lightly at the girl's mid-section. It drove all the breath out of her, but gained her back her feet. She coughed, sputtered, and muttered a thank-you. It surprised him, enough to let the next words pass his vocalizer. "But no one ever -"

"What?"

"Never mind. I -"

"**Megatron calling Starscream! Come in, you idiot!"**

His internal com-link suddenly blared into life with a burst of static. Instinctively, he jerked to one side, bringing up his arm as if he was warding of a strike. Dart grabbed Starscream's shoulder again, digging her fingers deep into the crevasses in the metal, the edges of the rivets smooth and cool to her fingertips. The mech steadied himself quickly, and gave the girl a swift glance. She managed to chuckle, rocking back and forth, the sleeves of her windbreaker catching the breeze and puffing out. Inside of the Air Commander, the communicator hissed once again as started to reach for his chest relay to answer the summons. Then he happened to glance up at the sky. The pink light softened the edges of the hills, giving them a faintly metallic glow that traveled across the trees and danced up into the black crater of the mountain itself. Wind picked up, lifted the tree branches to send droplets flashing back into the earth; red gold and shining at first, then turning a deep violet as they shifted in the light and were swallowed by the thirsty fiddleheads of the bracken.

A shivering whine came from the communicator, and a twisting wisp of acrid smoke trailed up from the mech's red chest. Dart watched it dissipate with a worried expression; Starscream's hand came up and rubbed ruefully at his left side as his lips twisted out a wince of pain.

"I messed something up, didn't I?" she apologized.

"Probably. You're merely human."

"Thank goodness."

After she left for the night, Starscream pulled open his chest panel. The communicator's tiny rod was fused to his circuitry in spots, and he finally dug his fingers underneath the tiny device and with a snarl, ripped it out. He sat and stared at the mess in his palm. It hissed faintly -even shorting out the antenna with an internal surge hadn't rendered it fully dysfunctional.

With a sideways glance, he threw it out over the silent forest. He heard it hit something far away and shatter from the impact.

"No," he muttered to himself. "Not now. Not yet."

* * *

The red ball went rolling over the ground. Behind it, the dog frantically scrambled, snapping at it until somehow, it landed in his mouth. The German Shepherd carried it back to Dart's feet, and she tossed it again. Into the air the dog leapt, all four paws straining as if he could climb into the sky after the toy. Starscream watched them from where he sat, working on the null-ray he had slung across his lap. The dog snapped at the ball, caught it in his teeth with a loud grating squeak, and pranced back to her feet. She reached for the toy, the dog dodging her hand and barking through his teeth. She pretended to ignore him, and when he snuck back to tease her, she grabbed his collar and wrestled the ball of his mouth. Wolf grumbled and mock-growled, but she finally forced him to let go and he ran off a few feet and stood there, then play bowed, bouncing down on his elbows. "You want the ball?" she asked. The shepherd barked and she grinned at it, sticking out her tongue as she stuffed the ball in her pocket. 

The dog whined, jumping up and down on his hind legs, thrusting his nose in every possible place he could think of in his search for his toy. Some of them were even polite. She laughed, shoved the dog back with her foot, and the animal mock-snapped at her pant leg. She pretended to roundhouse kick him in the head, and the dog ducked and started barking at her. Her hand snuck into her pocket, and she whipped out the slobber sopping tennis ball, holding it over her head. The dog's eyes went huge and he made yipping, chattering noises, his teeth clicking against each other in his excitement.

"You want this ball," she teased the animal, laughing. "This ball? Huh? Do you want it? Want the ball, oh boy do you want this ball, don't you? This ball?"

"What an inane game."

Dart looked up at Starscream. The dog took advantage of her lapse of concentration to throw himself at her, muddy paws leaving long trails of black striped down her chest. She made a face, wrinkling her nose, then laughed and threw the ball again. The dog tore off, snapping off barks like gunshots as she wiped her slime-covered fingers off on her pants. "He likes it. I figure if it makes him happy, it's the least I can do for him." She shrugged suddenly, her plaid shirt wrinkling over her shoulders. "Didn't you ever have a pet?"

"Pet?"

"A dog? A cat? A robo-hamster?"

"Robo-what?" was his puzzled response. His shoulders lifted and fell in a sharp shrug, his tattered wing rattling against his back. "No. I never found a use for a cyber-creature."

"Seriously? Aw, too bad. Animals have a lot more sense than most people, you know. I guess that's why I have Wolf as a friend and not many human ones. Then again, I went to a frat party once a few years ago where their dog mascot drank a lot of spilled drinks and ended up running into the wall of his doghouse, poor thing. A dog with a hangover, honestly, is one of the saddest sights I've ever seen. I guess the pet shops don't sell morning after binge cures for dogs."

The big black canine retrieved the ball and dropped it at Starscream's foot. The Decepticon stared at the sphere as the dog bowed down on his forelegs. The soggy ball rolled back and forth in the animal's mouth, day glow yellow against the pink of his tongue. Wolf spit out the ball and barked again, an insistent, commanding tone as he pawed at the ball, the chestnut marks over his eyebrows giving the impression that he was actually a silent movie star as he raised and lowered them, his jaws gaping open in a doggish smile.

Starscream's mouth lifted in a confused sneer back at the animal; the dog didn't seem to notice and barked happily again. After a good minute of the yelping, the mech leaned his hand against his audios, trying to muffle the sound.

"What does it want?" he snapped finally.

"_He _wants you to throw the ball."

Starscream stared at Dart as if she'd just asked him to dance a polka. She just grinned wryly, and stuffed her hands in her blue jean pockets, whistling to herself. He shot her a sharp look as the dog continued to make an infernal racket that grated on his sensors; finally, just to shut the darned beast up, the mech gingerly picked up the slobbery wet sphere in the very tips of his fingers. A look of disgust crossed the mechanical face as the tiny ball made a squelching noise. Wolf jumped up at him excitedly, yelping, bouncing back and forth, his look utterly intense. "Stop that racket," the Decepticon ordered as he flicked the ball out into the forest.

It sailed over the trees, and the dog shot off after it, crashed through the underbrush, leaves scattering under each drive of his paws. The animal was running so fast that his chest nearly touched the ground; his hind paws nearly impacted with the curve of his belly with each stride as his ears flattened, his tongue spattered flecks of saliva across his shoulders with each squealing bark of excitement.

The ball kept going, spinning away. The dog's barking grew thinner as the distance separated them, echoing back to the girl and the mech.

Dart canted her head, regarded him with an exasperated sigh.

"What? I threw it!" Starscream defended, throwing up his large hands and glaring down at her. What, first she wanted him to throw it for the slavering idiot of a beast, and then when he humored her and entertained the dull-witted creature, now she was crossing her arms and looking rather unamused.

"Yes you did. Into the next county, probably."

"But I threw it," he countered. "That's what it-he, wanted, right?"

"Yeah, but . . . " she began, then she just shrugged and crossed her arms, looking up at him. "Ever think of taking up major-league pitching?"

"Pitching? Pitching what? I'm a warrior, not a smelter worker."

"I can sense that there's going to be a major communication problem with this relationship."

"I'm making perfect sense," he muttered, staring off over the trees. The dog's faint bark came back to them. "Is he still after that thing?"

"Dogs are stubborn. Kind of like us humans. They don't know when to give up on anything." She smiled at him. "You should be glad about that."

"What?"

Dart grinned again, stuck her hands in her pockets and walked off through the knee high underbrush, whistling for the dog. Starscream growled after her, then sat sullenly, trying to puzzle out what she was talking about. He found himself drawn towards the inevitable conclusion that she found something about him amusing; which was a deduction the Air Commander found distinctly distasteful. At least the dog was no longer barking. Ahhhh. Peace and quiet.

* * *

That night, Starscream got carefully to his feet and shook himself once, stretched. Metal rattled against metal as he flexed his wings from side to side. Repair systems had picked their way through enough of the damage so that he knew he could lift off and get back to base as long as he conserved power and went slow. He tapped his finger against his chin, thinking, his intakes slowly venting ribbons of steam in the cool night air. _If I go back now, Megatron will have the advantage. I'm still too weak, and without my transformation and weapon systems . . . damn. _He ran another quick check. _My scanners are down too. I'll just have to be careful. I don't like to rely on just visual contact to spot an Autobot patrol. I'll have to find somewhere to steal what I need to bring myself back up to full flight operational capacity._ He ran a data check on the area, trying to find what would help him the most. Ah. A human military installation where they repaired their vehicles and weapons came up on his internal grid. Like most of the Decepticons, Starscream had this information downloaded as it became available to him. Never knew when you might need it to take advantage of. Perfect. That would do. 

Servos flexed and twisted in Starscream's arms as yanked the last bit of metal from the stripped jet nearby. As the sirens wailed, he lifted into the air, carrying his stolen burden. This would have to do. He could fix the broken transformation sequences, and now he had enough energy to allow his weapon systems to return to full power. Those were the two most important things - he'd been dreading what might have happened if he'd been found by the Autobots before he had those problems under control.

_Now, to go back to headquarters and teach them that Starscream is not to be left on the scrap heap. I'll destroy them all for this insult, fools. They hang on Megatron's every whim like that wet-mouthed dog on its ball. Well, I'll teach them to listen to me. I am Starscream! I am the second-in-command. The pride of our air forces, the -_

_Why am I thinking about that blasted dog?_

It suddenly came to him then, that he was perhaps enjoying this forced break from the others. There was no one to take orders from, nothing to do, just time to sit and plot and plan his glorious reign. He had no doubt that someday, he was destined to rule the Decepticons, to grind Megatron's reign under his heel and stand proudly at the head of a triumphant return to Cybertron. Wings outspread, the damp, cold air rushing past him and filling his head with a sound like that of a thousand cheering troops, Starscream gave himself up his fantasies and forgot that he was clutching scrap in his arms like a common laborer. His foot thrusters gleamed an eerie blue white against the dark sky. Far below in the forest, the mule deer raised their heads and cupped huge ears forward, snorting softly at what they perceived to be a reflection of lightning on the clouds of an incoming storm. The lead doe stamped her foot as the breeze wafted down the ozone scent and drifted it across her flaring nostrils, her fawns huddling close under her pale belly before she turned and nudged them into the thick, sheltering fronds of the Douglas Firs.

_But_ _she's only human, _he chided himself as the wind rushed under the leading edge of his wing, lifting him higher into the northwest sky. Humans were to be destroyed so that he could better use the resources they squandered for better things-notably the downfall of the Autobots and the conquest of Cybertron. He shook his head from side to side, curled his upper lip in disgust. _She's worth less than nothing. A momentary amusement, true . . . but what it comes down to is that she will sell me out to the Autobots. All humans do. Useless things. This planet would be better without them. _That thought echoed in his head again, but it was soon followed by another one that turned his head to the west, where he could see the lights of Portland, speckled across the valley, diamonds of amber and blue. _Useless. But... what if one could take them and turn them into something. . .useful? Is it possible? _

_I need to finish fixing myself, though, and it was safe there. I don't really need to exert myself getting back just yet. I'm still fairly damaged. I can always go back when I am up to my normal perfection. No one's bothered to look for me, why should I bother rushing back?_

The Air-Commander halted, hanging in the in the dark sky, his grey wings flicking behind him, the purple sigil lit by the moon, angular and as sharp as knives. Then he wrenched his shoulders, twisting himself away from the north with a jet of blue fire roaring from his heels, heading to the east.


	2. Chapter 2

"You look much better."

Starscream shrugged, his wings making a metallic rattle against his back. as he contemplated the human standing next to his heel. "Stand back. I have to test my transformation sequence."

With a chuckle and a touch of fingers to her brow, Dart did as she was told, moving back from the massive machine. She had to watch her footing, carefully skirting a long bit of metal that had fallen to skewer the forest floor, and then the angular tip of a rusty-smudged jet wing trailing handfuls of colored wire. The area around the clearing had become littered with bits and pieces - as if during the night, Starscream had shaken off the broken parts of himself much like a dog stepping from the ocean.

The Decepticon took a long moment to stretch like a giant cat, arching his body back as he swept his wings back and forth. Flexing his fingers into blue claws, he took a long stride forward, then another. The branches complained under the weight of his rolling strides, cracking and popping in the cool morning air. Steam rose and curled lazily around him, slipping from the vents in his plating. It meandered off in ribbons of pale white, seemingly coaxed into the sagging darkness of the evergreen branches. "Ah, yes!" he exclaimed, after a long moment, casting his gaze around the clearing until it landed on the girl. She canted her head, and her pale brows seemed to draw together in puzzlement. He merely smiled, his wings sweeping forward as his body began to shift.

The sounds of transformation echoed through the air. Cog and servo whined and clicked, the mech bending and shifting, his torso seeming to lengthen as his head dropped to the space in his chest, nosecone slid up and over his back. Tapering wings lifted and turned over, sweeping back instead of forward, the front of the jet settled back on two grey legs. Then the entire thing tipped forward, landing with two hard bounces on the landing gear that had emerged from underneath. The legs came together, toes retracted, and then the grey and red jet pushed itself up on its rear landing gear. _Much better . . . _he reflected. A long sigh shook the aircraft, rattling from wingtip to wingtip.

"Better?" she finally called out to him.

"Absolutely," he replied, his left aileron raising and lowering in the airplane equivalent of a careless shoulder shrug. "I was getting rather tired of not being able to do this."

"I'll bet." Dart replied as she stepped up to his side. Reaching up a hesitant hand, she started to run her fingers over sleek metal of where his fuselage appeared to be. She didn't know - she honestly didn't have a store of knowledge about aircraft or jets, mostly because she preferred to stay as far away from the human built ones as possible. Then, she thought better of touching him, and brought her hand down, stuffing it back into the pocket of her faded jeans. "You look great, if I can say that about a robot, I guess."

"Of course you can," he observed. "I am after all, the most handsome Decepticon."

"That's sort of an arrogant thing to say, " Dart laughed, then caught herself. It was odd, she decided, to hear this hollow disembodied voice echoing out of the cockpit of the fighter jet next to her. Then of course, she found herself wondering where his brain actually ended up when he transformed - assuming his brain was in his head. It might be like those old models of dinosaurs, nestled somewhere right above his hips, or in his left foot for all she knew.

"I have a right to be. You can be arrogant when you're perfect," he rasped, pulling himself still and rigid on his landing gear, giving the impression that he was throwing out his chest in a burst of what could only be considered male ego, even in a giant robot.

She chuckled and relaxed, stuffing both hands in her pockets. The dog wandered its way out of the woods where it had been having a grand old time for the last two hours chasing squirrels. Wolf staggered up to his mistress, tongue drooping out the side of his mouth, ribs heaving with each breath under the black coat. Instantly, her hand dropped down to stroke right between the animal's ears, her dirty fingernails scratching at a point right over his left eye. The dog squinched his eyes shut, trying to whuffle with delight and pant at the same time; the sound that escaped the animal's shaggy chest was a singsong warble of contentment.

"Having not seen anyone else like you up close, I can't argue with you," she admitted. "So-?"

"So what?"

"Aren't you going to fly?"

"Yes. Stand back."

The engines rumbled to life, building up into a high-pitched shriek that made the dog whine and turn its head to try and escape the noise. Dart knelt and gathered the animal to her, and Wolf buried his long muzzle under her arm as the jet taxied forward, the wingtips just missing the trees by mere inches, the powerful jet thrusters making the very air vibrate with a rumbling roar. It seemed to shake her very bones within her body, making her teeth clench, and she just pressed her nose into the side of the dog's neck, her hands coming up to protect the dog's ears from the noise. Wolf tried to lick the side of her face, but only ended up plastering her bangs in a very unflattering hairstyle across her forehead.

Starscream roared into the sky, rolled himself a few times, testing stress patterns, fuel consumption, everything. Satisfied, he shrieked upwards, did a few practice dives. Birds scattered out of the trees at the noise, dotting the landscape below him with dull flashes of grey and white, crows scattering from their lofty pine perches to toss insults at him, as if he was some sort of huge metallic hawk. Higher, he shot, breaking through the morning fog to the blazing sun. The wind slipped under his wings, creating lift - the thrust of his engines burned away all the sludge that had accumulated in his systems from his forced stay in his primary mode. Yes! This was what he'd been built for. To fly. To be lord of the skies, to feel the power coursing through his frame as he surveyed the planet below. Landmarks that were so unfamiliar on the ground suddenly became clear and useful - to his right was the sharp, distinctive mountain that the humans had titled Mt. Hood. And to the north, his sensors told him that St. Hillary was brooding, her top curved out as if a vengeful hand had torn a hole in the mountain.

The jet banked sharply as he made visual contact with the volcano. Even just looking at it made him want to shudder - millions of years, lying there underneath a chunk of dirt. And then him stepping free, treading carefully through the bodies of the Autobots locked in stasis on the floors, thrown against the walls of their ship with the sort of precision reserved for museum displays. Fingers grasping at the handle on an airlock, a blue and white mech slumped over the main controls of the ship, his hand half buried in the console from the impact. Over it all had been the reek of stale, dead air, and he had curled his lips back from his mouth-plates. Oh, he had told Megatron, told him to set a bomb within each living form. No time, his simpleton of a leader had replied - and of course, Starscream had been right. Even though he'd done his best to say goodbye by blasting off tons of mountainside and ash to cover them, the Autobots were like the roto-rats of Tarn - crawled right back out of it, alive and well and thriving. He snarled, the sound rattling him to the very tips of his high-mounted, swept-back wings, and then dove, slipping back into the fog below him, transforming in mid-air.

Dart ducked her head as he roared back to land with a hollow, metallic thud in the clearing. His arms crossed as he looked down his nose at her. The dog barked once as she straightened up and tipped her chin back to take in the mech standing there. There was the singed smell of pine needles rising from underneath his heels, and when he stepped forward, where his thrusters had rested was a burned spot, tiny glowing coals struggling in the morning wind to glow crimson, then fade into charcoal.

"All systems check out," he told her.

"Then I guess you're going to be okay."

"I- yes. I'm fine," he admitted. There was a long silence that stretched between them; she was shifting uneasily from foot to foot, he was standing, immobile, the only motion escaping him was the flick of a wing, back and forth. The dog watched them both, ears perked quietly as he panted at her feet, then realized there was a nagging itch on his rump he just had to chew, which he proceeded to do with great gusto. Starscream sighed, hesitated, then gave a very unmechanical gesture. He kicked at the ground, scuffing a big hole in the loam. "Perhaps . . . there must be something you wish for your services," he told her, uncrossing his arms and letting them hang by his sides. "I am feeling rather generous, after all is done. According to your television, you humans like money, power, and killing people. If there is one of these things that you would appreciate for your . . . attentions . . . I would find it rather easy to procure. Personally, I find that power is much more rewarding. Would you like the rule of a small country somewhere?"

Dart gaped at him, blinked, and then she just started to laugh.

"What?" he said defensively, crossing his arms back across his chest and giving her a haughty stare. "I could have just continued through with my first intention, which was to step on you. I thought I was being rather generous and you repay me with sarcasm."

"Whoa there," she replied, quickly, almost too quickly. "Don't offer what you haven't followed through with yet. I'm not laughing at you, anyway, I'm just laughing at myself. I wouldn't know what to do with any of that. On second thought . . . okay, I know what I'd do with the money, most likely, so on one hand, money would be nice, but-" she suddenly stopped, glancing up at him, and wincing. "Er... never mind. I know how you'd probably get it, so, no. Thanks though."

"You want nothing?" he rasped, aghast. "Nothing?"

"Not . . . no, wait. There is something I wouldn't mind."

He nodded, smirking. Humans were so easy to understand. Television did have its uses after all. It was like a window on their primitive culture. They seemed to spend a good part of the day trying to figure out the price of sets of furnishings and spinning large wheels with numbers on them that would add up to a dollar. He glanced down at her again, tapped his fingers on his arm with a metallic ticking noise. "Good. So you've decided on the money."

"No."

"What then?"

"A. . . well, I'd like. . . I'd really just, I can't believe I'm saying this. . ." she said, teeth gnawing at her lower lip in an expression of obvious anxiety. Glancing up at the sky between the branches, she seemed to contemplate something, and finally seemed to make up her mind. She swallowed once, and looked up again at the towering machine above her. "I'd like a ride."

"What?!"

Dart winced, but seemed to appraise him as Starscream stepped back. Slowly, she stuck her hands in her pockets and stared at the ground. Her whole bearing changed and for the first time in weeks, she seemed completely unsure of herself. Beside her, the dog had finished chewing on his bottom and was now working on a particularly itchy spot between his toes with loud slurping noises. After a second or so, he raised his head, wagged. The girl didn't look up, just lowered her hand to stroke quietly between his ears. Starscream felt a slight twinge somewhere that he shouldn't have had one. The forest seemed awkwardly quiet, even with the chatter of a jay somewhere in the trees. Starscream finally made a coughing noise just to dispel the silence, kicked his foot against the ground. Pine needles scattered in a wide arc, pattering off the tree trunks.

"Sorry . . . I shouldn't have asked," Dart replied instantly, thrusting her hands deep in her pockets again. "Hey, no problem, honest. Look. You'd better get going, right? Well, Wolf and I say it's been nice to make your acquaintance, Lord Starscream. Pleasure meeting you and all that stuff. At least now I can go back home and say it's been an interesting few weeks in the middle of nowhere."

He knelt down slowly and looked at her with an odd expression on his face. The loam under him crunched as his weight shifted. His head inclined slightly, the ruby optics filled with a look of disbelief. "Is that all? That's all you want?"

"Yes," she replied with no hesitation.

Part of him thought about just shrugging and leaving. The other part of him decided that this way he could call the debt (not that a human debt mattered, really) clear and free. He rubbed his chin with his hand thoughtfully, with a metallic rasping noise. Then, he slowly extended his hand and held the palm up to her, a foot or so from the ground. The massive blue fingers twitched once or twice. "Get on."

"Are you going to change your mind and drop me?" she asked with a faint smile. He frowned, and she clambered quickly onto his hand, swaying a little as he started to bring her up. Her tennis shoes left muddy trails across his blue metal, and there was a soft clink-clink as a pebble caught in the treads tapped against the curve of his thumb. "Because if you are, just warn me so I have time to make a parachute out of this useless windbreaker." A faint chuckle escaped her, and it was sound that he actually found himself able to tolerate. With a jerky movement of his elbow that nearly sent her reeling, he lifted her to the cockpit in his chest.

"Strap yourself in," he told her as he slid the panel aside. She swung one foot over the lip, finding herself in the awkward position of having to go feet first into a deep jet cockpit, managing to grab hold of the edge of the seat and gingerly scrambling to do so. Her left foot streaked a trail of mud along an instrument panel, and threw half a dozen switches. Luckily, they were only there for show, it seemed. Otherwise, no doubt she would have launched a few missiles into the silence of the hills, or at least turned his internal air-conditioning to the on position. He grunted as she grabbed the strap and scrabbled to swing herself into place - it was an odd feeling, like someone was tugging at his internals. Part of him shuddered in revulsion - the idea of a human ensconced within him thrilled him as much as someone setting a roto-rat down on his chest under a cansister, then heating the metal with a blow-torch until it chewed through him. Each touch of her hand bothered him, and he heard her feet scrape again across something. He shifted his weight, flicked out his wings, and finally said with impatience, "are you done yet?"

"Hey, this isn't like a car seatbelt," she replied, sliding her arms through the straps, her feet dangling until they found purchase on a pedal or two that thrust from the floor. "Give me a second, okay?" She paused for a second, and suddenly piped up again, her voice drifting from his chest. "You know, that's odd. If you don't have someone piloting you, why do you need one - a seatbelt? Why do you need an instrument array for that matter? Now that makes me ask the question, are you really what the Enquirer says you are, escapees from a military test base or something?"

"You're referring to a human facility?"

"Yes..."

"That's just idiotic, and you know it."

"Well, the idiotic thing I see here is the seatbelt," she muttered instantly, struggling with the effort of snapping it together. The stiff buckle finally allowed itself to be attached, and she drew back on the nylon strap, cinching it tightly across her shoulders and waist. Briefly, she let herself go limp in the harness, felt the sensation of hanging just by the safety gear. Her stomach gave a little lurch, and she quickly swallowed, suspecting that he really wouldn't appreciate her throwing up on his internal gear. "And that goes back to my question. Why?"

"I don't know," he grumbled, shifting his weight over his left leg. A flicker of blue singed the ground from his heel-thruster. "Hurry up. Stop chattering."

"Cranky thing," she replied, tugging on the sidestraps. He wasn't sure if she meant him or the stubborn nylon. "There, got it."

"Good," he said, kicking off the ground before she even had a chance to grab the edge of the seat. It almost reminded her of those rides at the carnival, where the people crammed together to by spun in a circle, held back in your seat by the force of the centrifuge. He thrust both wings out for balance as he continued to lift towards the gap in the trees, eager to be back in the sky. Beneath them, the dog leapt to his feet and started to bark, a high-pitched eerie sound, punctuated with whines and deep squealing noises of obvious concern at being left behind. Leaping into the air, the animal nearly managed to scorch itself on the jet of fire roaring from Starscream's heel.

"Hey, Wolf!" she yelled down. "Stop that! No! Go settle."

The dog seemed to have no intention of doing so - in fact, it threw even more of a fit, throwing his head back and tightening his muzzle into a sob of worry. She called down a few more times, realized that the dog probably couldn't hear her over the mechanical noises surrounding her, and leaned forward to speak into what looked like it might possibly be a radio speaker on the array in front of her. The straps cut into her shoulders, but held. "Tell him to stop that, could you?" she asked.

"Dog. Stop it." Starscream ordered as the canopy of the cockpit slid into place and muffled her completely. The dog pointedly ignored him and barked louder, standing on his hind legs and clawing at the air. _Maybe he'll run in front of me when I'm landing on the way back. _As if sensing his thoughts, the dog suddenly turned tail and fled into the trees. He glowered at it. "Stupid dog," he muttered to himself as he lifted off into the sky. "Now, initiating transformation. Hold on."

The cockpit shivered as his body folded, shifted, and she found herself clinging to the panel in front of her as she was bounced against the straps, then back into the seat. Her fingertips turned white from the pressure, and the color seemed to drain from her face as well to match. There was the uncomfortable sound of things changing places within him, her seat was thrown forward, then back, the walls seeming to press in. There was a smell that reminded her of burning oil and the crisp, ozone sharpness of burning electrical components; and it grew thicker as the massive wings ground forward and flipped, the leading edge now in its proper place, his Decepticon sigil square in the middle of the expanse of grey that she could see out the window. Water vapor from the low drifting clouds caught the edge of the metal, ripped apart by his passing in ribbons of grey, curling both over and under the broad panels of his wing. It danced along, twirling in eddies as it came to struggle against his flaps, then slicked its way back and rushed past to rejoin the cloud it had left behind. Water beaded across the curve of the canopy, and trickled to either side of the view, pushed back by the force of the wind around him.

"Don't push anything," he ordered her, his words coming in time with the flash of a tiny console light as he picked up speed. He kept himself at a deliberately slow pace, unsure of the stresses a human body could take. Plus, he really didn't want to be cleaning out his chest panel if she suddenly came apart in mid-flight.

"Why? Is there an ejector seat in here?"she wondered.

"There could be," he warned.

"Understood," was her instant reply. There was a long silence, and then she craned herself around, pressed her fingers against the smooth curve of the inside of the cockpit. She leaned, peering through them as if she was playing hide and seek with the vast expanse of blue and white beyond. Beneath them, the individual trees turned to a carpet of deep, thick green that resembled nothing more than a shag rug. Broad, brown squares dotted the landscape, evidence of the clear-cutting going on below. Here and there, the greenish-grey of a ribbon of water ran reddish with swirling silt as it passed through these places, then returned to its original hue once it slipped back through the stands of fir. Patches of meadow spread out below, and the swift shapes of a herd of deer fled from the low-cruising shadow, scattering in all directions like oil-drops in a hot cast-iron pan. When she spoke again, her voice had taken on a different pitch, one of awe and breathy delight, one that he'd never heard from her before. "Oh, my - this is beautiful. Look at the rivers! Look at the trees . . . look at it all. It's like it's not even real, does that make sense? It's like a postcard, or a map - well, I guess that's real, but, well, you know what I mean."

Her breath misted on the inside of the curve of transparency, and she finally had to bring up her sleeve to scrub at it so she could peer out again. The dust on her sleeve left a smear of tan and brown behind, a few stubborn fir needles clinging to the glass, adhered by moisture. She picked them off carefully with a fingertip, and stuck them into the pocket of her jacket; it was just a feeling that he wouldn't have appreciated her flicking them onto the floor.

"This looks the same to me," he remarked.

"That's probably because you do it all the time." She leaned her head against the rise of the cockpit, still captivated by the landscape below. "This is incredible. Thanks... thanks a lot."

"You're welcome," he said after a moment, tilting his flaps slightly and banking slowly in a tight curve, sliding to the west. "Would you like to see one of your larger cities? The one you call Portland isn't too far."

"Can we?"

"Of course," he scoffed, the sunlight gleaming off of his metallic form as he broke through the last of the cloud cover and rose above it, blue as far as the eye could see. The sharp peak of Mount Hood thrust through the mist as well; the distinctive outline of the peak resembling the fin of some great shark, looming with the infinite patience of a predator who could wait forever in the cold stillness, unblinking eyes of stone and glacier following the jet and his passenger as they turned towards civilization.

The city spread beneath them; a patchwork of drab greys, gleaming towers, and splashes of green. Portland was fascinating from the air. It was well laid out, the streets were orderly, the lights well timed, traffic moving in a choreographed ballet of asphalt and traffic lights. Broad loops of pale interstate contrasted sharply with the meandering little side roads; even this close to downtown, many of them trailed off into dirt driveways. It reminded her of a drop of water hitting a puddle - the tallest buildings were in the middle, clustered like gazelle at the banks of the Columbia river, then radiating out and becoming smaller and smaller until they drifted into the green fields of mint that bordered the ranch pastures.

Interestingly enough, the sight brought with it a memory of smell; of driving down one of those backroads in the rickety Jeep, Wolf's head hanging out of the window, his eyes and ears squinched with pleasure as the odor of cow permeated the air. She'd thought for a while that was why the mint was planted that close, for no sooner had the smell of fermented grass and cow waste become nearly overwhelming when it was replaced by the sweet, clean scent of the green and purple plants. Unfortunately, thanks to a friend's comment, she knew better now - the two were side by side because cow waste made the perfect fertilizer when sprayed liberally across the mint in a yellow-brown stream of sludge and water. Funny, she'd stopped chewing gum for a while after that.

Starscream dipped his left wing slightly; the roll and pitch of the aircraft swept them closer until she could make out the brightness of individual cars racing below them on the interstate. The colors mixed like an artist's blurred vision; a drop of yellow, a stream of white, the flecks of red and blue darting here and there on the two lanes. The river passed by underneath them, the barges dotting the surface, laden with huge pine logs ready to be pulled off by the massive cranes lining the banks.

Water vapor flickered off the edge of his wing as he turned again, the sunlight creating shining areas of eye-watering white. She brought her hand up to rub the blurring moisture away, and blinked rapidly. It dried quickly, leaving her pale lashes stuck in spiked clumps. "Wow," she breathed softly.

"You act like you've never flown before," Starscream observed.

In his seat, the girl tensed slightly, and turned her head back to the console. "Not for a long time, and not like this. I haven't... well, since my family..." she trailed off, and then he felt her shrug. The webbed harness straps creaked across her shoulders, then pulled her back into the stiff chair. "My family passed away about four years ago. I never really felt like flying after that."

Her voice took on an odd quality as she spoke, and he caught a sad, strange undertone to her words. At least, Starscream thought that he caught it. He wasn't sure. Human emotions were hard to read for him, especially when he couldn't read her body language, and with the girl resting in his seat, that was impossible. Ah well, whatever she was upset about didn't concern him, and he banked again, following the twist of the river below.

"I could never think about living without flying," he told her.

"Yeah, that makes sense, being that you're you," she replied, then gave a little laugh. "I guess we Earthlings like to keep our feet on the ground and our heads in the clouds."

Starscream puzzled that comment over in his mind. That made absolutely no sense to him. How could you do both? He flew low, using the highway as a guide for a while as he mused it over to himself.

* * *

Interstate Five cut a grey slash through the green of the valley. Along the sides of the road, the weedy limbs of scotch broom fought for dominance over the tufts of grass, steadily encroaching towards the traffic. Here and there, the sprawling limbs of an oak tree spread itself against the grey sky, branches as tangled as wooden spider webs. The street lamps stood as rigid as solders, lining each side of the highway in stooped precision; their smooth curves only broken when a hawk crouched on the light-shield, sharp head turned as it watched the road-surface patiently, the piercing gold of its gaze unbroken as it scanned for any new carrion to fall by the wayside.

Unfortunately, the only debris that met its sight was not edible; instead, there was the red and white shine of a soft drink can, and a plastic bag whipped across the road like a petroleum based tumbleweed until it was sucked abruptly into the sharp back-draft of air from a passing utility vehicle.

The green four wheel drive avoided the plastic bag with a rocking motion that smoothly swept it to the left on the bare highway, then back firmly between the lane stripes. However, the gesture seemed distracted somehow, as if the driver had been half asleep, or concentrating on a radio station that just happened to be blaring his favorite song. It drifted again, sped up, slowed down; perhaps the driver wasn't asleep or concentrating, but was actually dangerously imbibing from a bottle of beer tucked carefully between the seats, out of the watchful eye of Portland's finest.

"Did you see that?"

Words rumbled out from not only under the hood but across a frequency that no human radio could decipher.

The red sports car gunned its engine as it caught up to the green off-road vehicle, swept alongside. The cars had spent the morning trading places on the road, one taking point, and then the other, like geese cutting the wind for the flock.

"See what, Brawn?"

"Up there, about 15 degrees on the horizon," Brawn replied, after a pause, as if he also was trying to confirm his own findings. "Your readings picking it up?"

"About-oh, there. I see it now!" Cliffjumper's voice rose sharply, the red car weaving in, the curve of his hood nearly brushing Brawn's left flank as his headlights raised and echoed the surprise in his voice with gesture. "Retro-rockets! If that's exactly who I think it is, he's way out of his territory. Wonder what he's up to, that tin-plated nasty?"

"Who cares what he's up to? What I care about is that wherever he is, it's trouble." Brawn growled. "No doubt he's planning something that isn't going to be good for anyone, Autobots or humans. He's too close to the city for my liking. We'll follow him for a bit." The Land-Rover sped up, the sports-car drifting carefully into place behind, and the speed limit sign that read fifty-five flashed by in a white and black blur, disregarded not only by humans, but giant mechanical robots as well. Poor Jimmy Carter's answer to the energy crisis really didn't seem to sinking through to anyone.

Starscream made a slow lazy turn in the air, sweeping back toward the forest. Everything seemed to be operating well, except his topographical systems. However, to compensate for that, he could just follow the roads below.

"Heading back?" Dart asked, feeling like she had to yell over the powerful roar of the jet's engines.

"For now," he replied. "I haven't as much power as I'd like to have. I need to shut down and try and build my reserves up."

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't even think about it. You're still not completely recovered, are you?"

"Not until I go to headquarters and spend some time in a real repair bay."

"You should have quit earlier."

If it was possible for a jet to shrug, Starscream did. Dart's body rocked against the harness and the seat with the motion, and she found her fingers clutching the cool cloth of the seat underneath her.

"I was fully capable of flying. Besides, I gathered you were enjoying the view."

Dart inclined her head, then laughed and leaned forward to pat the console in front of her, taking care not to touch anything that might be the trigger for an ejector seat. "You mean you actually were flying around just for me? I'm flattered. Does this mean we're friends?"

"Not exactly," he replied.

"Thanks."

"I mean . . . I don't have any friends. Besides, you're a human. I'm a Decepticon. How can we be friends? I think you barely understand the notion of the term," he rasped.

"Hey, I can give it a shot, honestly," she replied, crossing her arms to look out the window again at the sharp peaks of the Cascades jutting upwards; Mt. St. Hillary and Mount Hood, the twist of the river running between them, slapped against the grey of the sky like the harshness of a hastily applied oil painting. In contrast, the Dalles were soft sandstone, airbrushed with long, sweeping strokes of palest yellow and bronze. It was such a different view, flying, than it was to drive over the ground.

Up here, surrounded by mist and hearing the roar of the jet engines, it slipped through her defenses; left her turning to press her nose against the amber curve of the canopy to search the dark green of the trees as if she could find a long-lost clue, the final answer to a question that lingered constantly in her mind. She'd found that no matter how she tried, it never quite seemed to leave her thoughts. It didn't matter what time it happened to be, or the situation; she'd found it could be something as silly as flicking on the radio in the jeep or even just brushing her teeth in the morning. Even the click of Wolf's toenails against the hardwood floor had brought it on; more than a few times she'd thought it was the sound of a pair of dress shoes, and there would be a memory dashing in to offer her a remembered smell of soap and aftershave, the house ringing with laughter at her mother trying to tie her father's tie, they were so late for the annual office Christmas party...

Perhaps a bit of white metal would reflect a stray beam of sunlight, or the mark would be carved into the landscape, a path missed by hundreds of searchers. She squinted her eyes and looked past the edge of Starscream's wing, craning her neck around to peer back over her shoulder, gazing back to where the wide Columbia traced the border between Washington and Oregon.

There was a breathless period where she hoped, and then an equally long moment where she exhaled, and it slid slowly past her teeth with the taste of loss. Well, that also might have been the taste of the Egg McMuffin and lousy coffee she'd had for breakfast.

Thinking about breakfast made it threaten to come back in a way she really knew Starscream wouldn't approve of. So, she swallowed and turned back to the console, picking up the conversation she had started.

"Uh, back to that notion... You took me up here, didn't you?"

There was a long pause, and then the tiny red light on the instrument array flashed in time with his words.

"Yes, but -"

"Aren't you flying longer because you thought I was enjoying it? Which I really appreciate, by the way, just in case I forgot to tell you..."

"But-"

"Didn't you put that over your own concerns?"

"Of course -" He was going to say not, but her answer cut him off before he could finish.

"Then we're friends, see?"

"But -"

"Starscream, just leave it at that, okay?" she said with a sigh, leaning back into the unyielding material of the flight chair. "Humor me, I guess. Although, you've pretty much humored me all along, haven't you?"

"How nice of you to notice," he replied. She shook her head and tried not to let herself chuckle out loud at the grumbling whine that had crept into his voice. Realizing that he just had to have the last word, she just sighed and graciously gave it to him as leaned back in the seat, and stared out into the sky as the jet continued to bank towards the way he'd come from. Okay, maybe it wasn't graciously, but she was the one sitting in an alien from another planet, and he did keep making comments about an ejector seat. That probably wasn't the best combination. Okay, make that a definitely, not a probably.

* * *

"I have a clear shot at him, Brawn. We could take him!"

Brawn's sensors flicked around, realizing there were no other cars on the side road they'd turned off on. Above them, the Decepticon flew slowly, keeping a line with the roadways below.

"I haven't seen any backup." Brawn agreed. "That's odd."

"Odd, schmod. We can take him down!" Cliffjumper shouted, barely able to contain himself. He transformed and sighted down his gun. "Just think-you and me taking out the decepticon's main air striker. Just one little shot and -" he threw out his hand in an expansive gesture. "Poof! No more Starscreamer. Think about it! We'll be heroes!"

"Heroes, huh?" Brawn transformed and crossed his arms in front of him, then looked back up at the sky. His blue optics narrowed thoughtfully, and one large hand rubbed across his chin as he studied the situation. One glance told him that he and Cliffjumper were alone, that they were not going to be endangering any lives but their own if they chose to confront the Decepticon. The green mech frowned again, weighing his options and the fact that his own circuitry was telling him there was no escort roaring after the jet - the mech was alone and there wasn't a blip on the horizon for miles in any direction that could remotely be considered a Transformer.

"He's done an awful lot of damage, that one," he admitted finally. "Not like anyone would really miss him. Megatron would probably consider it a personal favor if he didn't wander his way home."

"Well, I don't want a personal favor from old Megajerk. I'm sure it would involve me and the glowy end of the fusion cannon." Cliffjumper snorted as he eagerly transformed, shading his optics against the grey of the sky to allow him to focus in on the glint of the jet.

"What part is that, actually?" Brawn chuckled.

"The part that makes you die," the red mech quipped back with a wide grin that crinkled the corners of his mouth.

"Heh," was Brawn's succinct response. Then, slowly, he turned his gaze back to the sky. "Think you can hit him?"

"I know I can!" Cliffjumper cried, snapping up his gun to sight down the barrel.

"Then do it," Brawn replied, pulling out his own rifle.

The first projectile caught Starscream completely by surprise, tearing through his wing and exploding off of his flank.

The shockwave threw him backwards in the sky, his entire frame whipped around like a rubber ball on the end of a string. Metal shards, glowing red hot on the edges shot into the air, and embedded themselves into his canopy, echoing like hailstones on a tin roof. Dart was thrown forward into the straps, then slammed back so hard against the seat it knocked all the wind out of her, effectively turning her cry of surprise into a wheezing, rattling struggle for breath. The plane rolled on his back, twisting like a cat trying to make sure it landed on its feet. Vapor trails flashed off the ends of his wings, and up from the left one blossomed a shadow of debris and smoke, whipped back into the wind and swallowed eagerly by the grey clouds.

Another flash, this time off to his right, and Starscream threw his ailerons down with such force that a rivet popped in his wing and bounced off his tail fin.

Inside, Dart was still gasping as she was thrown forward again and smashed back into the seat. This time, her fingers managed to grab the underside of the chair, and there was a sharp twinge in her thumb that told her she'd either jammed it, the two bones fighting for dominance over the stress... or that she'd torn off half her fingernail. She barely had time to register that, before it also struck her that the plane was decelerating so quickly that the clouds seem to have been thrown forward, whipping past as if they were the only stationary point in the sky. With that, came a crushing pressure on her chest. White-faced and silent she fought to drag air back into her lungs.

"Autobots!" Starscream shrilled.

Dart had no idea what he was talking about. The plane banked hard, nearly standing on its nose; she felt herself go weightless for a brief, stomach churning instant - then the full force of her body crashed into the straps again. Hands outflung, she struggled but found no brace on anything inside; the strands of her bangs bit at her eyes until they watered, and she could barely make out the forest spread below her, the greens and peaceful browns taking on a sinister cast through the blurs of speed. Stands of trees seemed to be thrusting up darkly from the hills below, curling branches as sharp as jutting bones springing from the earth, as if they were skeleton stop-motion soldiers in a Ray Harryhousen movie. Mouth half open, she started to ask the jet exactly what he was talking about, what was going on, anything to stop the roar of motion and the acrid stink of burning electrical components.

Her words found themselves blockaded by a sour trickle of acid laden-coffee attempting to squirm back up her throat to grace the instrument panel in front of her. Rolling her eye back, her attention was caught by the fragment pattern of buried metal along the edge of the canopy curve. It was followed reflexively by her drawing her chin to her chest, trying to curl herself up in a ball as the massive machine's engines roared terror in her ears. Even closing her eyes, all she could see was the spin of the clouds. A little laugh echoed in her ears; it took her a moment to realize that it was her own, thin and hysterical.

"You hit him!"

"Told you I could!" Cliffjumper grinned. "And I'll do it again! Watch this!"

A barrage of projectiles slashed the air around Starscream, who shot sideways, lunging back and forth, trying to avoid the attacks. His systems were down, his radar telling him nothing or too much, signals and sound screaming in his relays, buffeting him on all sides with misinformation.

"What are you doing?! Can't you just land or something?" Dart's rising cry echoed eerily around the cockpit. In front of her, the rows of lights flickered and bobbled. Then a whole bank of them went off, and the jet rolled again, sharply, to his left. This time, the smoke off his wing was visible as the right wing loomed in her vision.

"They'll blast me to bits, little fool!" he shrieked back as he swept himself sideways and rolled halfway over. An explosion off his right side caused them both of them to flinch. He dived, throwing her back against the seat again. She let out a yelp of pain, the sound clawing its way out of her chest like a wolf buried under the black, slick wetness of a mudslide. Right now, he didn't care. Just a few more seconds, and he'd be out of range.

"He's getting away!" Brawn yelled.

Cliffjumper sighted carefully down the barrel of his gun. "No, he's not," he replied with a look of utter determination.

Starscream tracked the projectile approaching them. This was almost too easy. He slammed hard on his retro-thrusters.

The resulting de-acceleration was all it took. The shoulder strap on his seat harness finally worked its way free and Dart was spun strangely to the left, her leg thrown forward as she managed to grab the flapping bit of nylon with both hands. It twisted her in the seat, the still fastened bits of the belt doing their job where the other failed; but her left leg whipped around, her muscles no match for the forces the jet was putting on them.

During flights, pilots kept a firm hold on the yoke of their aircraft; this was how one human could control tons of steel that were essentially built around an engine designed to send it snarling forward across the open sky at the speed of sound.

However, no matter how upset the pilot might be at the performance of his aircraft in a dogfight, it was a good bet that the controls didn't get kicked. Starscream had never expected to carry a human passenger, and he certainly didn't anticipate the fact that his internal controls were actually working ones - the Ark had done its job of resurrection and disguise well.

Too well.

Dart's foot slammed into the controls, and Starscream shrieked again as his right ailerons wrenched down and literally threw him on his back in mid-air. His landing gear snapped up and clawed at the sky for two seconds before the repairs gave and wrenched it out of his underbelly, trailing wires of offal as it bounced cheerfully down his length, rubber tires skipping along the metal like a deranged rabbit before the wind snatched it and spiked it towards the earth. The roll continued, and this time, the girl didn't manage to hold onto what remained of her breakfast; she retched miserably, clutching the strap so hard in her fingers it burned.

The lapse was all Cliffjumper needed. A projectile turned and smashed into the underbelly of the plane, lancing through the cockpit. The controls broke off, sheared cleanly as the missile continued upward, dragging metal in its wake; a comet carrying a payload to a destination. It went roaring past the seat, setting the sleeve of Dart's plastic-coated windbreaker burning before it ricocheted off the inside of that curve and clattered back onto the floor below, rolling around, sounding like a quarter inside of a steel drum. Starscream felt the pain of the impact hit him a millisecond later, leaving him stunned and falling - he knew he'd lost control of his own body. His howl of fear and rage shook the very tips of his wings, shuddered the sound from him back into the grey, unforgiving sky.

It was echoed by an odd gurgling whine that died into silence. Dart's body slumped against the straps, her fingers going slack and limp, the nylon falling from her grasp. The only thing that kept her in the seat was those restraints that held her there.

Plus the fact that the yoke had snapped off and driven into her, right below her rib cage.

Gravity drew them down to the earth, but the fall pulled the blood upwards, winding up the cold metal, coiling over the controls and flicking off the ends to spatter across the inside curve of the canopy. Starscream struggled to right his engines, cutting power here, forcing it there, but there was no response except a weak, blue sputter, enough to send his nose tipping downwards, quickening his decent. Sluggishly, he attempted to throw down his flaps again, and found only one responding to his commands. The shattered off stick of the controls twitched a little, but didn't move to the left or the right, jagged shards of metal fencing upwards; the broken end of a silver bone.

Nosediving, he twisted, and begin to fold, damaged wings grinding into place on his back, cockpit and nose of the aircraft becoming chest and mid-section as he fought to regain control of his own body. Fingers outspread, clawing at the air as if the tattered mech could find purchase in the wisps of grey moisture; haul himself back up into the wind, hand over hand, like a climber on a sheer wall of basalt. Heel thrusters flickered as he brought his knee up to his chest, then arched back, toes pointed as if he was a high–diver, as if his posture would turn the grey tops of the fir spears rising up to meet him into the cushioning spread of a white-capped ocean.

On the ground, the two Autobots watched with at first surprise, and then Brawn inclined his head, sighted down his rifle to affirm that what he was actually seeing in his scope was matched with what his optics were informing him; that the Decepticon Air Commander was out of control and falling. Slowly, his rifle lowered, and he had time to scratch his chin as he glanced over at Cliffjumper.

"Wow... he wasn't paying attention - he rolled right into it, can you believe it?" Cliffjumper replied.

"No kidding. Guess he isn't the lord of the sky today, is he?"

Starscream kicked out again, the projectile bouncing up inside his chest and barely missing the edge of the seat before the tip caught on the side of the chair, the stabilizer fins holding it in place. The heel-thrusters flickered, pale orange, then bright white as fuel finally rushed back to them, ignited. Wings tipped, arms outstretched, he could feel the drag, and it was a matter of too little, too late. Even his mid-air transformation couldn't stop the fact that his body connected with the ground with massive force, struts in his knees snapping and crushing under the weight of his body. With a howl of agony, his hands met the ground, compressing the small, encroaching bushes next to the roadway between his fingers. Under his feet, the brush smouldered, the rain vaporized from the scotch broom with a hiss similar to that of vipers disturbed from winter torpor; dried in an instant, it danced with flame until the twigs burned to veins of ashy carbon.

Cautiously, the two Autobots began to approach the crumpled mech. Starscream's wings heaved, spots swum in front of his optics as his self-diagnostics beat a steady clamor of warnings. Cliffjumper's gun was held tightly in his grip, his fingers aching from how hard he'd been clutching the weapon. He knew, no matter if Starscream was on his hands and knees before them, that the mech wasn't one to be taken lightly. Glancing at Brawn, he took comfort in the other's presence, knowing that even if Starscream was to get up and charge them, his friend's left hook was more than a match for wiping any urbane sneer that the Decepticon might give them right off his face. Probably along with his vocalizer, and half his jaw - but those would be considered a mere bonus. The Air Commander had a reputation for trickery, of slinking through life and brutally using anyone who pitied him long enough to let him walk away with his life. Compassion with this particular mech was like reaching your hand into a cage full of rabid wolves to offer a steak; sure, the steak would be gobbled, but they'd wait until your attention was elsewhere and snatch your hand too, crunch fragile tendons between unforgiving teeth before they stood back and let you fall. Like Starscream himself, they also probably wouldn't even bother to eat you - it wasn't a kill for survival of the fittest, it was more to snuff a life for the sheer joy of watching something's fear as it happened. Cliffjumper's optics seemed to narrow, and his gun rose slightly, to keep a careful bead on Starscream's head.

Stepping off the roadway, he could feel the gravel crunching and slipping under their feet. Brawn said nothing aloud, but quietly moved to take the point position as the smells rolled forward on the wind, the misty grey seeming to thicken and concentrate it; a soup of aromas created with the splash of burning fuel, a dash of crisped vegetation, then a dabble of iron and rust.

Dazed, Starscream shook his head from side to side, feeling trails of warm wetness running down his leg, his wing. It wasn't through any sensors that he detected the approach of the Autobots. Instead, his optics found focus on that blot of olive green that was grinding its way towards him, followed by bright red. Curves of metal, not cautious humans creeping forward in their cars to stare at him crashing to earth; no, he knew instantly what these were, and that they had full intentions of finishing the attack that had blind-sided him from the sky... If their positions were reversed, he would have already smashed them into bits and left their corpses to litter the roadway. Autobots. Always slinking and waiting for their betters to be unwary - then they got brave, resembling nothing more than roto-rats who chattered in the smelting yards, nibbling through cables and cogs from trash and corpses.

He narrowed his optics and curled his lips in a soundless snarl of hate that twisted his dark face. However, it was actually fear that jerked him to his feet. In the air, he was a master; here, on the ground, the Autobots would have the advantage. Injured, and his weapons systems fluctuating from having power to having none, meant only one thing. Retreat. He'd remember these two, oh yes, and then he'd come back, streak over them one night and render them senseless, kill them, and throw their heads at the front step of their damned ship.

With that lurch, the canister inside of his chest worked free, fell forward and slammed into his console. The point drove right into his speaker system, and it popped and crackled, sending feedback wailing into the air around him, like someone had held a bullhorn too close to a microphone- the horrible, wailing cacophony shattered the stillness, causing both the Autobots to stop in their tracks. Brawn took a step forward as if to protect his smaller partner.

"Hold it right there!" the green mech ordered sharply as the noise died down. "Don't do anything stupid, Starscream." _Wait, that's probably the most useless sentence ever, now that I think about it. I should have just told him to go on and do everything stupid; he probably could understand that one. _

Trickles of smoky white seeped from the edges of the Air Commander's chest, and were borne away with the air. They were followed by a strange noise; Brawn placed it after a moment. He'd been tracking one of the Decepticon spies last winter, around the lake that pooled on the mountain's left flank. Each stride he'd taken echoed with the crack of a frozen slurry of mud and ice giving way; the lacy edges where lake met shore crushed by his weight.

Abruptly, the cockpit dead center in Starscream's chest riddled with long, snapping cracks, twisting up the sides like kudzu vines, tendrils of damage winding through the framework. Metal wasn't immune, either - it wasn't just the canopy that fell to the glass-gas housed in Cliffjumper's projectile. The sweeping, curving bars holding it all together also cracked outwards, and as the weight became too much for what was left of the supports to bear, it slid forward on his chest with one final shivering, delicate moan of metal.

The chemical reaction made it so brittle that the entire assembly powdered into delicate, light shimmers resembling mica dust. Drifting down, the remains were caught by the updraft created by the still-burning bushes. They spun like miniature, lit tornadoes in the vortex of warmth. Something wet pattered down as well, and where it did, the flicker of flames died and smoked. _Coolant line, _Cliffjumper thought, _if it was fuel, it would catch. and burn..._ Something solid fell forward, loosed from the mech's chest before him, and he leaned forward with a sort of gruesome feeling of observation, wondering if the projectile had struck home deeper than he could have ever suspected it might, perhaps the Decepticon's main fuel pump had come loose of its anchors, and possibly, just possibly, the mech would drop right here. He gaped himself, but could almost see the awestruck looks as he and Brawn returned with the news...

Starscream's hand instantly came up to clamp over the ruined hole in his chest, fingers spread. The Autobots heard something thwack into the palm of his hand. Cliffjumper winced - the sound reminded him of the time he'd been following poor Hound down a deserted road. The deer had leapt out in front of them, Hound had done his best, but the animal seemed to have been bound and determined to run into the Autobot; as the brown flank met grille, there had been the terrible sound of someone striking a sack of meat with a lead pipe.

The Decepticon's mouth opened, worked soundlessly.

A horrible, grating shriek escaped him. Both Brawn and Cliffjumper stopped in their tracks as his cry built on itself, a screaming rail of incoherency as he continued to hold in the ruins of his chest. The panels to either side of his shoulders flicked up, exposing the smooth curves of payload - cluster bombs, each tipped with explosives that could...

"Oh. Crud," Brawn said.

Then he threw himself face down on the roadway, dragging Cliffjumper down with him as Starscream erupted into frenzied violence.

Blasting at everything, completely oblivious to if it was moving or not, Starscream let loose with a terrifying barrage of power. Cliffjumper saw the world turn white, then blazing orange as the trees lining the roadway exploded in bursts of heat. Chunks of road bubbled like molten lava; they were then vaporized with the squeal of escaping steam. An innocent bystander, the stop sign melted into a pool of slag. The explosions were deafening, but the bombs were cast wildly, none even coming close to the two Autobots. Tar oozed from the roadway, slithering off as if it couldn't stand to be mixed with the gravel any longer, the reflective road-turtles ignited and flung themselves into the air, whirling like flowering fireworks.

Still the Decepticon fired, using up energy reserves in a berserk frenzy of destruction. It couldn't last, though, and he suddenly stopped, intakes rattling, body heaving with long, wracking spasms as his systems desperately fought to repower themselves.

Trembling, Starscream turned his head, optics whirling with some inner frenzy madness that made even the battle-seasoned Brawn draw back as he met his gaze. The Decepticon didn't seem to even notice the Autobots . . . he looked right through the two of them like they weren't even functional. Then Starscream suddenly reared back, used his good leg to throw himself off the ground. Brawn's rifle snapped up, but since he was still on his stomach, the shots flew misplaced as Starscream flung himself nearly sideways into the air and fled, vapor trailing behind him, not transforming into his faster jet mode. The grey clouds swallowed him, only leaving the afterimage of his engines; a lingering circle of pale blue, like someone had looked into the sun too long.

Cliffjumper looked at Brawn from where he lay. Slowly, he spit a shower of dirt, pebbles, and one very relieved earthworm out of his mouth as he surveyed the destruction around them. Miraculously, both of them stood and realized neither had been damaged in the frenzy.

"Nice shot." Brawn said finally, reaching down to pat his friend on the shoulder. "You must have hit something . . . vital, huh?"

"I have absolutely no idea."Cliffjumper replied in awe.

* * *

Starscream's heel thrusters flickered to a stop at the outcrop, and he came to a jarring landing on his wounded leg, nearly coming down on one knee. Landing with a thud, he stood, head down, trying to regain some semblance of composure, his hand still clutched over the ragged edges of his chest. The glass-gas had done its job efficiently once the canister had deployed, the composite chemical reaction mixing and chewing through every unorganic substance it could find, changing the composition of metals. He bent his head, allowed his hand to fall away so he could better survey the damage.

The girl's limp body came with it, and it was an automatic response for the mech curl his fingers around her - at first, he'd thought the pressure had been from his main fuel pump, torn free from his inner workings. Instead, on finding this bloodstained, crumpled bit of flesh, he'd found himself shuddering in distaste, encouraged by his thoughts to flex his fingers and sending what was left of her off into the forest.

The seat had completely crumbled apart; what had looked like nylon and cloth was actually a cunning weave of metals so fine that they mimicked the actual internals of a plane down to the herringbone pattern. The only thing still whole was where one strap had slid under the edge of her windbreaker and been somehow protected by the inner layer of cotton. The yellow nylon itself had succumbed to the chemicals, and shards of it clung stubbornly to one ribbed cuff. Even the yoke that had pinned her to the seat had turned into frangible shards- however, where her blood covered it, it had withstood the glass-gas and still shone wickedly in the grey light like metal fangs broken off in her mid-section. A small twist lifted the corners of his mouth; even injured as badly as he was, the scientist in him stopped to clinically observe this little fact, with actual curiosity. The organic substances painted across it seemed to stop the encroachment of Cliffjumper's attack. Hmm. Perhaps this could be put to use sometime when faced with the situation at some later point. He bent his head slightly, drawing the scent through his sensors. Metallic and thick, it seemed to run heavily into his joints, leaving slender black trails against the blue. On her grey shirt, however, it stood out, red and stark, and it had left spray pattens across her shoulders and thighs where the momentum of speed had swirled it outwards. Pink foam was running from her mouth and dripping down her chin. _Disgusting, _Starscream decided, opening his fingers wider to let her drop to the loam below.

As her body shifted in his metallic grasp, the girl's eyes fluttered open. Glazed with shock, the irises were a filmy, gummy grey. Her pupils were black and wide, one slightly larger than the other. Bubbles broke at the corner of her lips, and she moaned slightly, but it brought up more spume than sound.

The mech's dark face tipped to the left, and his optics focused in on her again. Bringing up his other hand, he ran it though the substance starting to pool in the cup of his palm, then rubbed it absently between thumb and forefinger. It was slick, but dried almost instantly; unfortunately leaving behind an unpleasant sticky linger on his tactile sensor arrays.

"Dart," he said after a moment. "Do you still function?"

There was no coherent answer, merely another struggle for the body to draw breath and release it. Impulsively, Starscream touched his fingertip cautiously against her the side of her face, then trailed it lightly down to her chest. Viscous strings clung to his metal, drawn like the trails of a meandering snail. He brought it up to his olfactory sensors, sniffed closer. It smelled like . . . he stared at it in recognition.

_Ruined internals. It smells like coolant fluid and unused fuel. Strange smell, for a human function. She's dying, and I do not think she can be repaired. Ah well. I did my half of the bargain..._

His fingers started to tighten in preparation to toss her aside. Diagnostics were showing that most of his injuries were acctually merely cosmetic in appearance - the worst was the collapse of the knee strut, and even that would be easy to fix once he was back at base. Annoyingly, he could hear the constant, soft whine of some internal diode complaining about its lot in life. A smothered curse, and he sent an order down his relays, trying to find the thing and shut it off; most likely, it was nothing critical, or it would have come leaping to the forefront of the list flashing in the corner of his left optic. It was with some confusion he found nothing that could account for the noise... until he turned his head and saw the shadows on the ground moving. It was the dog, crawling out from the firs and ruined, snapped cedars. The animal's eyes were rolled back into its head, the usually pricked ears flat against its head. Tucked tight between its legs, the plume of a tail clamped to its belly; behind it in the loam, it left a wet dribble, showing terror as only a dog could. Something drew it out, though, made it slither along the ground, crawling and whimpering. It couldn't not approach, because what dogs were essentially bred for was goading it on like no amount of screaming and kicking ever would.

Starscream looked at it, the animal a picture of abject misery and fear as the blood smell hung thick in the air.

A faint memory of a turbo-hound back on Cybertron actually surfaced then. The beasts were loyal to their masters; so loyal, in fact, that they would often fling themselves into combat, the drive to protect stronger than their fear of the situation. Something - a little glimmer of thoughts coiled in his mind, wrapping around like a sibilant serpent, whispering ideas that would have been laughed off before, disdained for their sheer foolishness. Perhaps it was his injuries and his knowledge that he was still alone, that he'd been left to die and no one had seemed to even remember that he existed - and yet this lowly organic thing, crawling in the dirt, was loyal to a master who seemed to have nothing more than thrown a ball and fed it some horrible, reeking slop from a can twice a day.

"Dog," he acknowledged the animal.

It cringed at his voice, lowering itself even farther into the duff, still crawling forward on its elbows as if it was negotiating a minefield. Lips were curling back from its mouth in a horrified rictus of fear, the tip of a pink tongue protruded from its teeth, licking frantically at the tip of its nose with canine gestures of appeasement.

Lowering his hand, he offered the body on it to the animal.

The dog slunk closer, teeth chattering as it let out a series of guttural noises that rolled up from inside its narrow chest. Finally, when it was close enough, it slid its nose over the curve of his fingers to sniff at the girl's face. Frantically, as if that one sniff was enough to galvanize concern over fear, the animal started licking at her face. One paw came up to rest on its master's arm, long black claws shining with red the more it pawed at her, the tail still tucked tightly underneath it, but wagging. What surprised the mech was the fact that her hand managed to come up and grab a handful of fur next to the animal's collar, convulsively tightening.

"Good dog..." she managed to say, and the words were strangely clear, if barely audible, before her hand fell back to her side, a few stray, shed hairs clutched in her clutched fingers.

Wolf nosed Dart's limp hand with his pointed muzzle and then looked up at the transformer. He began to bark a few seconds later, over and over in a repetitive, high-pitched keening dog sob.

"Wolf. Shut up," the Decepticon mumbled, automatically.

It was rather to his surprise that the dog did as it was told and lay down instantly, muzzle between its paws. The command was familiar, and the animal instinctively responded to regular orders - the voice was different, the situation around it something it could not fathom, but the words and the inflection were not. Flopping down on the ground was simply a well-learned way to avoid punishment following a consistently heard phrase. Dog, shut up and lie down, knock that off before I come and swat you on the butt, and so, it did.

When all was said and done, no one would ever know that the fact that Wolf's charming habit of attacking a sliding glass door whenever a cheeky neighborhood squirrel trotted the porch railing would dovetail neatly into another ill-fated Decepticon scheme.

"You listened to me, dog?" he wondered aloud. The dog crinkled an ear up at him, managed a tiny wag of its tail, the tip poking out from under its left hip.

_She listened to me -_

Starscream's head snapped back and defiance filled his gaze. An idea flared abruptly in his mind, an idea he had honestly never even remotely considered... but the more he thought about it, let it roll around his head, the more it had some use. He began to laugh, softly at first, feeling the blood dripping between his fingers. The dog backed away, whining, and then fled into the trees as Starscream leapt into the air, carrying his burden in one cupped hand.

* * *

The military repair base Starscream had raided earlier was on full alert this time as he landed in their midst. The falling shadows of evening outlined him strangely, his dull grey finish seeming to pull in the last of the light and throw it back towards those before him in the blaze of red from his optics. Weapons aimed, fired. This was a repair facility though, not a place loaded with shoulder mounted rockets or missiles, and they weren't really ready to fight a robot menace off from picking through their hard work like a giant metallic vulture.

With a snort of frustrated air from his intakes, the massive machine brushed it off as if it was nothing, stalking forward like some sleek predatory animal, focusing only on his objective. Orders were shouted, rifle reports split the air, and lead splashes appeared on his metallic hide as he snarled and kicked a retreating vehicle out of his way. It flew through the air to bounce and roll into a mangled heap in front of him. Three humans escaped, staggering away as he kept walking. The fourth frantically fought with his seatbelt as the transformer approached. Starscream ignored the human's struggles, and proceeded to bring his foot down hard on the remnants of the Jeep.

There was a strangely satisfying crunch to Starscream's audio sensors, and he sneered down at the surrounding humans.

"Teaches you!" he hissed. "Now get your pitiful army out of my way before I kill every one of you little fleshlings! Otherwise I will level this base and they'll be picking every one of your carbon-based skeletons out of the ashes." He spread his wings back, carnelian optics burning in his darkened face.

The commander looked up at this maniacal terror.

"Fall back," he ordered quietly. "When he moves on, someone go to see if we can help the driver. And get everyone off this facility, now, that's an order. I don't want any more casualties to that thing. After that, call the Governor."

Starscream kicked the hangar doors open, using his free hand to swing them completely aside. People scattered like a handful of thrown bolts out around his feet as he used the tip of his foot to smash aside a half-repaired small aircraft - sending it to crash through the side of a grounded plane nearly two hundred feet away. He kept moving until he found a metal workbench half scattered with tools. With his free hand he wrenched it from its supports and slammed it into the wall. It hung, supported by two metal beams as he grabbed a metal propeller and jammed it up inside the bench to keep it steady and level.

Then, he eased open his other hand and set the human on it. She rolled off his fingers and on her side, arm flung out and limp, half-curled fingers pinto-patterned with her own fluids. Something inside of her shifted and he heard the audible crack - her internal support rods were breaking, it seemed - and it was followed immediately by a wracking cough that expelled more frothy bubbles from her lips. Starscream couldn't believe she was still operational at all... how was actually in a human body? It seemed like more than he would have ever thought. Carefully, he reached down, tapped the barest tip of his finger against the only spot that seemed to be completely without any sign of injury; the sweep of her upper thigh. Her eyes fluttered open at the touch, and she somehow managed to focus on the looming shadow above her, crimson optics shining like distant torchlight on a deserted beach.

"Stay with me," he ordered suddenly, something he had never even thought about saying to any of his fellow Decepticons unless he was under severe fire.

"Star..." she said, struggling to find the words. Her words held an strange lisp to them, it was only the corner of her mouth that moved to form the syllables. "Wolf's all alone..."

"The dog will be fine. It will eat trees or something." he muttered as he turned and wrenched a wing off of a nearby plane, appraising its metal alloy structure. It would have to do. There wasn't time to do this any other way.

"He'll . . . die . . . out there."

Starscream shook his head as he ripped out a handful of wiring from the nose of another plane. Even dying, she was more worried about the dog than herself. He failed to see the point. Survival was survival. If you weren't strong, you didn't. That was his entire philosophy. _Then why are you doing this, _his mind chided him. _Let her die. She's worthless!_

_But she can be worth something to the cause! To-my cause! The way she is now, she is worth nothing, true. But with . . . some . . . changes, I can fix that. I need a way to remove myself from Megatron's power. Troops. Loyal troops, ones that answer to me and me alone. They don't need to be intelligent, just willing to be under my command...she would work. It's an experiment,_ he decided, convincing himself in a scientifically detached way as the blood dripped over the edge of the workbench._ This could be just the thing for me to build a loyal force of soldiers, and there are those who would be willing to join my cause for the power it would bring them. With this one, I know how she thinks, and because of that, I can control. It's like...she's like..._

He couldn't come up with what she was like, so he didn't keep trying. Instead, he joined wires and cables with odd configurations. His hand left blood smears on his work that rapidly dried to a dull reddish-brown, lingering like rusting designs on an old plow blade.

About half-an-hour into the process, he held up his work to inspect it, and scowled slightly. Crude. But it would have to do. Slowly, he walked back up to her.

"Dart? Are you on line?"

She didn't move, and he hoped she hadn't ceased to function. A ribbon of red wound down the table and dripped partway down the wall. He hurried to place the box he'd made over her head, making sure the metal rested against her skin. Then he opened his chest panel, and stood staring down at the wires trailing out of his hand. One he attached into his power systems, the other . . . he hesitated.

_To use my safety download banks . . . if I get hit after this in my primary memory centers, it will kill me,_ he thought. Then he narrowed his optics. _I will just be careful. I can do this. After all, __**I **__am doing this. And I know exactly what I'm doing! _To admit anything else was not within him. He ripped out his own cable with a quick wrenching sensation, and attached the wires leading to the human to the circuitry bank. It wiped itself clean instantly, and with his own connection severed, it stayed clean.

The power draw nearly sent him to his knees, and the young woman's body shook as the system began to hum.

A scream escaped two throats, one organic, the other of metal. Each of them was suddenly thrown into the other's mind, two completely alien patterns of thought. He felt something there wrench, as what was all of her was torn from that heap of dying flesh on the table to pass his own thoughts on the way in. Like a wolf snapping at the heels of a terrified filly, he used himself to force her thoughts to hurry; to make the data flowing through the connection move faster.

It threw his own looming shadow over memories she herself had completely forgotten about; that had been buried to make room for a thousand more. Unlike a transformer, there seemed no logical method to what she had deemed important; the smell and taste of a beverage was accorded the same importance in her memories as the first time she'd burned herself on the hot handle of a cooking pot. The alien-ness of the crossing made him even more brutal in his own efforts to compartmentalize it into patterns he himself could understand. This went here, that went there, and Starscream shrieked silently and tore her conceptions apart like he was digging through sand to find one small, glittering diamond. Those bits he deemed not needed he tore from her and cast aside - there was not time for a lengthy, drawn out process. He was vulnerable, now, and if anyone came on him doing this... well, the consequences weren't something he cared to dwell on.

Her fingers clutched the metal bench, curved like scrabbling claws trying to find purchase on a track that had suddenly become glass. It was as if she was trying to hold on to something, anything, to keep the last spatter of breath from leaving her lips and taking her with it.

_I am Starscream, lord of the air. I have fought the battles that made others take flight. I have flown through the galaxy and tasted the fuel of a thousand fallen foes. Let go. Now. _

_I am Rachel. I think I'm Rachel - no, I'm Dart, silly little nickname they called me and it stuck... Mother . . . father . . . don't go. All I have left is -_

_I shall rule and Megatron shall grovel at my feet! Power and leadership shall be mine. I will conquer what rightfully belongs to me. Leave me to rust, shall he! I will teach him that I am to be respected! _

_He's . . . seen things I can only imagine . . . _

_She did listen to me..._

_Wolf? Oh . . . Wolf. I'm so sorry . . . you'll die out there, won't you. _He felt her struggle then, her mind trying desperately to slip out of his grasp, her thoughts fully focused on the dog. He fought back, tried to force her to stop that before he lost her completely - before she tried to turn her way back into the broken form on the makeshift table. In her mind a low growl of frustration rose to become a ragged snarl that was nearly canine in its own origin. _Don't stop me, let me go let me go... I'm not leaving him behind. I won't! I can't . . . Wolf . . . loyal . . . animals are . . . always like that . . . _

_Yes, you- they are, aren't they... _came his wry chuckle of a response. _Let go,_ he soothed, and his voice seemed to change, the rasp taking on soothing, coaxing tones, an offer, a promise._ I will take care of the dog. Things will be fine... trust me, why don't you? You can trust me. We're friends, aren't we? I took you flying. I kept my promise, didn't I? _

A massive convulsion shook her then, one final time, and then Starscream wrenched himself back into his own mind. He shook himself wearily as he looked down where a tiny light blinked, telling him that the memory chips were storing what he'd hoped they would. Silently, he pulled the wiring free, let it drop to the ground as he looked over at her body.

She was dead, that much he knew. Her chest no longer rose and fell, her breath no longer escaping in bloody bubbles from her lips. Nothing, her flesh gone as cold and unmoving as any metal. All he could hope for is that his theory would work. After all, human minds operated on electrical impulses, right? Slowly, he pushed her limp arm with his finger to cover the gaping hole under her ribs, and then made a fastidious face at the blood smearing his finger. With a shrug, he wiped it off on the wall and then staggered out into the late afternoon sunlight.

One cluster bomb left.

Casually, he flicked up a shoulder panel and sent it hurtling towards the shed. It struck with the sort of precision he should have had back at the roadway, sending a fireball of red-and gold upwards into the sky. He watched it, felt the heat blow back sparks into his face. With a low laugh, he kicked off into the air and turned northward, slowly transforming as he left the battered installation far behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

"Just do it to the specs I gave you!" Starscream shrieked, exasperated. "And if it takes any longer than tonight, I'll personally rip your head free and use it as a doorstop!"

The Constructicon held his ground and shook his head. "First of all, the specs you gave us... Starscream, they need work. There's a lot of conflicting systems in there, and I may not be a scientist like you, but you're not a builder, and what I'm seeing on these schematics have a lot of flaws. A **lot** of flaws." At the Air-Commander's unpleasant snarl, he held up his hands, placating, and stepped back a pace, shaking his head. "I understand, you have an idea in mind, and of course, far be it from me to argue your ideas, it's not in my place to create concepts. I wouldn't know where to begin, but I know how to turn ideas from concepts into things that work and work well, with as minimal repairs needed to keep them functional and running. Why bother putting the time into doing something unless you do it right from the beginning?"

A long sigh escaped the green and lavender mech; a professor struggling to teach a class full of pre-schoolers about the proper use of past tense. "For example: using this planet's atmosphere as the main source of cooling, instead of adding on more areas for cooling fluid... yes, it will save on weight, but it's very primitive, and I guarantee it will cause problems. Consistent problems, and serious ones. The transformation is too tight, and you're relying too much on subspace to shunt off even more weight. I seriously doubt she'll be able to carry anything other than a missive. You might as well give her a pigeon alt mode and tie a note to her leg. And speaking of functions, are you sure that's what she is? I mean, if the data's as corrupted as you're leading me to believe, I just can't help but think that you might have been..." he fumbled for a word, realizing that he had already stomped across shaky ground and was galloping recklessly towards a quite dangerous sinkhole, probably also studded with sharp stakes at the bottom. "Er, misled, maybe, I mean, you should really download that into a data-store and wait until someone like Soundwave has the time to study it more thoroughly. It might not even be worth your vaunted time, and ours trying to get it into an actual body — and, furthermore..."

Starscream's hand smashed into Scavenger's throat and lifted him off the floor until they were nose to nose. "You will hurry!" he screamed into the other Decepticon's face, tightening his grip one finger at a time. Scavenger grabbed his wrist, but it was like fighting a vice, the Constructicon struggled and clawed at the blue forearm, leaving long scratches in the still-curing paint.

"I want this out of my system as soon as possible!" the mech hissed, spitting flecks of lubricant across Scavenger's optic band. "I have no desire to meet my own demise if I get hit, and I want this thing out of me, now. I've held it long enough, and I don't like the idea of sharing my personal space with anything else, and I consider my secondary banks very personal space. I want her downloaded into a functional form before sunrise, even if you have to do nothing else all night!" He tossed Scavenger aside before he even finished the sentence. The Constructicon tumbled a few paces end over in to land in a metallic heap. Starscream lifted his foot to kick him in the side of the head.

"Enough, Starscream." Scrapper said, smoothly interposing himself between the two, and offering a mollifying half bow as he glanced up at the other Decepticon. "You will have what you ask for before tomorrow."

Scavenger looked up from the floor, rubbing his throat as he shot Starscream a daggered glare. _I hope one of these days that his high-and-mightyship goes off and ends up becoming an Autobot target. Nice going, who ever got him out there, but geeze, you could have at least finished the job. No one here would have complained. As a matter of fact, we would have found a way to give you a blasted parade or carve a statue in your honor. _"Look... sir, consider my point, as it's obvious you're concerned... download it down to temporary storage, we have plenty.." he offered reasonably, even though what he really wanted to do was tell the Air Commander to go stuff his head up his own tailpipe.

"No!" Starscream snapped, recoiling, one hand over his chest as his wings flared out behind him. There was a flash of nervousness in his dark face, but it passed back into anger. His foot lifted again, and Scavenger flattened a little more against the floor; he wished that no one had bothered to take the time to repair the mech's wounds. He'd remember it someday, when he was holding the laser scalpel... oh yeah, watch him remember.

With a snort, the Air-Commander turned on his heel, flaring his wings out behind him as if to accent his words. "Just do what I told you to do and be quick about it!" The door, on hydraulics, somehow managed to slam shut behind him, even though it had never been designed with that ability in mind.

"Geeze," Scavenger muttered as Scrapper reached out a hand to haul him to his feet. "What's up his tailpipes today?"

"I don't know. I suggest we do what he insists we do. If we have to, we can cut a few corners." Scrapper replied, shaking his head as he glanced toward the door as if he was afraid that Starscream would change his mind about his temper tantrum and stalk back in. "I would rather face him when he is a little more rational."

"I don't like cutting corners. Because you know what will happen, he'll come back and blame anything that's wrong on us. I can smell a fiasco brewing here, and trust me, it's not the lovely aroma of high grade energon. Mark my words, the only thing that can come from this whole situation is bad things, and to top it off, did you see that design he wants us to put together? Not only is it outdated, it's not going to be useful - no place for a decent weapon worth speaking of, and the armor is horrid. We don't have the materials laying around to build a shell, I have no idea what he's thinking. And even alloying it in places, well, we'll just have to pick and choose what's most important and hope it manages to stay together long enough to point out his mistakes later. With much laughing, I hope. My damn throat is killing me." His face broke in a wry grin, and he lifted a finger, made a clicking noise, deep in his chest at the other Constructicon.

"Rational? Ha. Like that's going to happen in this millennium . . . "

"I wholly concur. Come on, let's get this done. The sooner we finish, the faster he's off our backs."

* * *

"I hope that meets with your approval."

Starscream met the obsequious words with a sneer, running his fingertips lightly across the metallic shape on the worktable in front of him. The finish felt rough in places, cobbled together from leftover bits and pieces of better metals, and he critically eyed the edge of the shoulder-guard, took it between his thumb and forefinger. Slowly, he applied pressure, timing the duration it took for the metal to bend. Slowly, he paced around the table, placing a hand here, poking there, opening panels to peer into them. The watching Constructicons all seemed to be narrowing optics, waiting for him to say one word negative about the project that had taken them the better part of the night.

"It will do, I suppose." he said with a shrug, and a imperious wave of his hand. "Now get out of my sight."

The Constructicons looked at each other briefly, then Scrapper nodded.

"As you wish."

"Jerk," Scavenger muttered under his vocalizer as they shut the door behind them.

Starscream waited until the metallic click of their footsteps was long gone before he rose to his feet and locked the door, giving it a passkey code that only he would be able to release. Silently, he walked over to the table once again, appraising the body on it at all angles, blowing out a loud hiss of frustration as he discovered that a few minor things weren't quite to his satisfaction.

Unfortunately, that ended up being many things.

Tearing out a handful of wires, he twisted them back on themselves, rerouting the systems he found redundant and useless, snipping out coolant lines and opening up auxiliary air guides for better flow, grumbling all the time. Yanking open the chest-plate of the body on the table, he picked up a grinder, and started to pare back the heavy reinforcements of metal, only leaving cris-crossed strips inside, a basket-weave sort of pattern, then started on the backplate, too. A pile of shredded metal drifted down to his feet, and the purple sparks from the grinder danced across his fingertips. An hour passed, two, and then he shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other and leaned forward, hands on the edge of the work-table to inspect his efforts. Well, fine, he'd done his best to fix all the mistakes made by those blasted Constructicons. How dare they think that they knew better than he did when it came to this sort of thing. Idiots.

A long sigh escaped him as he opened his chest panel, silently hooking his auxiliary memory banks up into the completely clean system. He looked down once again, and then shook his head and fished inside himself for a moment with a finger, drawing out the final link of cording.

He hesitated before connecting, wondering if he'd misplaced anything, if there was one more thing he needed for this to complete itself. _No, _he decided._ This will do. I can always go back and modify things later if I need to. I need to get this done fast. If anyone suspects anything, I'll just deactivate her if I have to. I'll just say the personality was too corrupted. No one will know, and I have no intention of being ridiculed for a human. Megatron would consider killing me for sure, I think. Heh. But I will of done something he never even knew possible. If it works, perhaps I could create a legion of willing followers - best think about that later. This is an experiment, and most experiments fail. Now, let's see . . . _he threw a few switches and levers, touched a few keys, and then placed his hand silently on the table's rim. There was a crackling noise, and he let out a yelp as the power coursed through him.

_Come on, come on . . . _

The optics of the body on the table in front of him started to glow. Dimly at first, they strengthened into a cool, clear blue, struggling to compensate for the energy input. Starscream crossed his internal circuitry, hoping that he hadn't made a grave error in his calculations. Slowly, the machine on the table flicked a finger, and he felt the memory inside him clear itself with sudden unnerving blankness. Instantly, he disengaged his own systems from it, and breathed a sigh of relief as his now empty backups eagerly accepted his own personality within.

A light, fluttering noise made itself known, and in that open chestplate, the main fuel pump started to quickly push shimmers of energy through previously empty lines. As fuel started to course, things happened; a twist of a bared throat, left leg snapping out and cracking into the edge of the table, one arm pawing uselessly at nothing before it clamped over the mid-section of the form of the table. He smiled, leaned closer, hovering over the form like a metallic scavenger bird, reaching down to tap lightly at the sleek, oily metal of the copper-colored contraption that pattered before him; the sound speeding up until it resembled the rhythmic gallop of a racehorse, stretching out into full stride on a well groomed track.

"That's right..." he said, satisfaction turning his words to a rasping purr.

Another kick, and then the optics began to dim, the light chatter of the racing pump slowed - it turned sluggish and dull; a downpour on a corrugated tin roof fading with the encroachment of the sun. The hand pawed at nothing, the soft breath of intakes trying to bring air into the cooling systems drifted off into a rattling gasp.

"Come on -" he hissed, reaching down to strike the pump with the heel of his hand. It dented a bit at the edge, the soft internal metals not meant to ever receive blows smashed directly onto them.

A primitive shriek tore through the room as the device skipped a beat and then seemed to catch and surge; an animalistic howl that started out low and built its way to a receiver-piercing pitch. Starscream took a step back, watched as the body began to spasm and shudder. He waited a few minutes more, the time passing measured by seconds that felt like hours.

"Hum-Dart?" he finally said.

A low metallic moan came from the other transformer's relays, the sound broken and rasping. The intakes finally caught fully, pulling air past olfactory sensors and driving it deep into newly vented cooling systems. There was the soft metallic scrape of her fingers across her mid-section.

She remembered something about that, about a bite that had gone so deep it had punched through, but it was hazy and dull. Instead, no, she did remember the face looming above her, its optics shining crimson. A ball went spinning off through the trees, a rattle of tool box striking the ground - those things stood clear and concise in her thoughts, as did a flash of wing and a expanse of grey sky that brought with it horror. A whine escaped her, and reflexively, she went to curl tight, protecting her head. Nothing moved, nothing responded, and she had to shake her head and look up again.

"Starscream...?"

He leaned over the table and put his hand lightly on the black curve of a shoulder, then withdrew it, spreading his fingers along the metallic edge. "Here." he told her. "Are you functional?"

"Ow."

"I'll take that as a yes."

There was a quizzical look in her optics as she focused on him. "I think my back's broken," she said in a confused tone. "Can't move."

"It most certainly is not broken," he replied, shaking his head. "Give it a moment to relay information correctly, it's still setting up the response in neural pathways, most likely. Customizing to your commands, so to speak."

Having no idea what that meant, Dart merely attempted to nod. "Oh, all right. If you say so. Sure. Great," she finally offered after a long moment. Her voice was low and soft, the syllables short and clipped oddly in places, as if she'd was trying to best express how she was feeling. "That was the worst nightmare I've had in a long time. You were flying and we got attacked . . . and I think I died. Funny how you always wake up right before, isn't it?"

"Rather," he replied, dryly.

A whiff of something curled into her nose then, dancing past her in a delicate thread of smell. It was metallic and thick, the hot reek of metal, acrid tang of... fuel? It had to be, because it smelled like when standing next to your car on a hot day, pumping gas, drawing in the heavy, sweet scent of the vapors rolling across the rear quarter panel; watching them as they wavered downward towards the ground, shimmering with invisible weight. This ambiance was different though, somehow. Drawing in a sudden, sharp sniff, she rolled the aroma around in the back of her throat, feeling like for the first time it had true substance; that she could not only breathe it in, but swallow it down and honestly gain sustenance from it.

Normally, all the odor did was cause a her to merely close her eyes and sneak a breath in while she refueled right across the border in Washington State. Oregon had warning stickers everywhere about the hazards of gas fumes, and a strict rule about attendants only when it came to pumping. No, this response was an peculiar one, she suddenly grew aware that she was terribly, shockingly hungry... okay, starving, even.

Well, all right. When the gas fumes started that reaction, it was time to get up and think about heading to the drive through to get a burger.

Lurching, she struggled to sit upright, nearly falling over. Her left arm flung itself out, attempting to keep her from pitching forward on her nose as her spine seemed to flex, then overcompensate for the bend. She scrabbled backwards, flailing madly as if she was a puppy tossed into a river, trying to keep herself afloat.

A metallic clang echoed as the side of her hand connected with his arm, reverberated up into her shoulder, jarred her as much as the movement. Freezing in mid-flail, she cocked her head to one side, her attention riveted on the sound as it rolled through the room and seemed to shiver through her ears; bell-like tones that started out painfully sharp, but slowly became thin and wavering before dissolving into the walls.

Awkward silence took its place.

Slowly, her head turned back, her body bent forward. A long pull of air slid into her throat, bringing with it more scents; light ozone - electrical, perhaps - and then a whiff that caused her to nearly gag, as if she had snorted in the chemicals from an exploded battery. Immediately, she brought her hand up to paw at her nose.

Another clang.

A yelp of surprise escaped her, and she jerked her hand away, catching a glimpse of grey as she moved.. Strangely, slim metal fingers seemed to follow the action, and she couldn't help it, she reached out her hand and curled her fingers towards her palm. The hand in front of her echoed her movements, a flick of her wrist, the tap of her index finger and thumb together. She frowned, and then suddenly grinned, decided on a sudden whim to make little bunny foo foo hop across the forest, scoop up a field mouse, and bop him on the head. There was no way whatever mechanical friend Starscream had dragged along with him to watch her would be able to mirror that gesture, and if he did, well... she'd get a good laugh out of it at least.

It did, and the bunny scooped up a field mouse and she felt her other hand move to complete the gesture.

The grey hand landed on the clenched fist with a click, and as she sat back and started to laugh, she looked up into Starscream's face.

The Air-Commander wore such a strange expression that her laughter died instantly, shot down by confusion. Letting go of her captured fingers, she turned her head to look around the whole room. Sleek walls rose, indented lighting lit the area with the cold brightness of fluorescent bulbs They weren't the long, thin tubes she was used to seeing. The color seemed off too; instead of a pure, glowing white, they had a bluish cast, and the light seemed just as bright on the floor as it did near the panels.

Starscream's gaze never wavered, and he brought up his hand to rub his chin, his crimson optics slowly flattening into slits.

"What do you smell?" he asked suddenly.

Now, that wasn't at all the question she expected to hear. Automatically, she lifted her head and sniffed the air.

"Lots of things," she finally admitted, her shoulders rising and falling with a rattling shrug.

"Interesting," he replied, shifting his weight from his heel to his toe, his wings flicking slightly. He didn't say anything more for a second - instead, he merely walked a step forward, then looked directly at her, tapping his finger against the line of his jaw. "Like what?"

A puzzled smile crossed her lips, and she inclined her head again. Starscream watched her take another breath and hold it for a long moment, as if she was rolling it around in her mouth like vintage wine. Then she lifted her chin abruptly, seemed to blink.

"I smell... you."

"What?"

She tilted her head back, struggled to find the words to explain. Her feet swung slightly back and forth as she knotted her fingers in her lap, twisting them around each other nervously. However, her gaze remained on him and became thoughtful, almost distant. "I smell what the sky smells like," she said finally. "You know, like wind when you're up in the mountains. Oil, I guess, too, and grease, and I think some gasoline mixed in. Oh, and something weird... I think it's tin, or copper. You know how copper smells? Kind of like it tastes when you hold pennies in your teeth... er, not that you've ever held pennies in your teeth, so I guess that's a bad analogy, huh? Salt, too, the ocean, maybe? And rust - I don't know how I know that it's rust, but I think it is. It smells like the underside of the Jeep."

"The what?"

"Jeep. The car. My car, it smells like my car."

"How do you feel?" he repeated slowly, bringing up a finger to hold it in front of her nose. Her optics tracked his movement, and as he swept his hand to the side, she turned her head to follow it. He watched her with clinical detachment, noting things as they happened: her shoulders lifted and turned smoothly, the settling of her weight as she shifted to her hip to cross her legs at the ankles. She continued to speak, but he honestly didn't care what she was saying, it wasn't important. What was important was how her fingers moved and her head lifted, that her systems were working and processing information correctly. He'd done it, and it had been _simple_, easier than repairing delicate linkage between a neural process net and a upgraded weapons system. Then again, he doubted that her mind was anything but simple, really... the average roto-rat was more complex, in that it—

Abruptly, he realized that she'd gone silent, and glanced down at her again. Something about her posture caught his attention. He saw the tensing of calf and leg, and threw out a hand, palm outstretched like a traffic cop. She twisted, instinctively ducking more than any focused ability to dodge, and awkwardly flung herself off of the table and onto her feet.

Her legs shot out from underneath her, and a yelp that would have sounded more appropriate from a frightened dog rose out of her throat as she collapsed on the floor with a clatter of limbs. No sooner had she landed then she struggled back up to her feet. Her knees locked, and something whacked her hard across the shoulders with a deep, metallic clang, pitching her chest forward.

Something felt wrong, extremely wrong.

Rearing backwards, her own weight threatened to tip her flat, and she threw out her arms, pawed crazily at the air in an effort to catch something and pull herself upright again. Instead of offering out a hand to steady her, Starscream merely stepped back a pace, his wings flaring, watching. She sprawled forward again, landed heavily on her hands and knees, her fingers digging into the smooth, cold expanse of metal underneath her. As she struggled to find purchase, her fingertips scraped across the floor, the sound rasping like the blade of a plow that had bitten through snow to bare asphalt.

Grey fingers scratched again, scrabbling. The weight across her shoulders shifted, and she could feel a pull deep in her back, something straining to match her motion and balance her. It gave way with a pop, and she arched back, bowed in a strychnine curve, her eyes frantic. Then she fell forward to crouch once again on her hands and knees, and this time, she was still for a few seconds before she lifted one hand up in front of her face. Her supporting arm trembled under the strain of her weight, but she just flexed the fingers, staring at them.

The mech stood there, half-lifted the null ray and aimed it at her head. _If she can't gather her wits, I'll just shoot her. Put her out of her misery . . . and mine_.

Slowly, she lifted her head, and blinked up at him.

"What did you do . . . ?"

Starscream flicked his wings back, and started to give her an answer, but she was already struggling to her feet again, awkward and swaying as if she were a newborn filly. Staggering forward a step, she ended up braced before him, long legs spread wide, hands clutching at nothing. She drew air past her intakes again in a deep, shuddering pull. A copper flicker met her senses, one that didn't smell quite right to be a mechanical one; but she couldn't recognize it at all, not with every other scent and sound that was assaulting new pathways, clambering over one another like kittens in a high-walled cardboard box.

Gazes met and locked, one cobalt, the other crimson.

She stared openly now. The colors of the world were different, metallic tinges to everything she saw. In the back of her mind, there felt like there was a constant click, a whirr like the five and a half inch floppy drives of the college computers. With each thought, the sound grew more distant, until it was merely a background whisper, and then even that faded. Whining softly, deep in her chest, she took a step backwards. Her leg twisted slightly to the left, and she automatically bent to grab and brace the ruined joint with her hands before it could send a jolt of pain up her spine.

Her fingers wrapped around her knee, feeling gingerly around the joint. Instead of a tightly wrapped bandage under worn denim, there was only smooth, cool metal.

Instantly, she reared back.

Then, her hand came up, palm raised outward between them, warding him away from her as if by doing so it would change the situation, rewind the clock and she would bolt awake, wet with the sweat nightmares induced, mummified in a sleeping bag, the warm, oily smells of dog and old canvas flooding her nostrils instead of the sharp, metallic stabs of this dimly lit metal room.

Standing upright, her gaze was now even with the top edge of his chest. Recognition of height combined with what was now her image curved across the yellow-tinted glass of his chest and finally drove the impossible realization into her mind.

Copper scent turned to tin. Her head turned, nose following that smell to the brown smears casually painted across Starscream's fingers.

Blood.

A strange, choked noise escaped her as her knees gave out again, and she started to pitch forward. Instantly, his hand reached out and snatched for a grip on her shoulders, fingers wrapping around the piece of metal there. The mech used it as a handle, scruffing up her light weight with a stiff, outstretched arm. Slowly, she lifted up her chin and stared at him, her gaze inward and strangely blank. His own dark face reflected there, but she gave no recognition of his presence as her optics started to dim again; he identified the symptoms of a processor going off line.

He shook her back and forth, and her chin slammed against her chest a few times.

"Don't you dare do that," he threatened severely, lifting her up until the tips of her feet barely dragged the floor.

A funny, wheezing noise escaped her intakes; he rattled her again and again until the glow rolled back into her optics. Her head lolled, her chin skipping along her throat guard, and he grabbed the back of her helmet with his other hand, wrapping his fingers around the back of the grey curve of metal there; forcing her jaw back so that she looked directly at him.

"I saved your life. That's what I did to you, and the least you can do is be appreciative about it," he told her. "Shutting down is something I'd consider to not be appreciative."

The blank stare she offered made him release a long, exasperated sigh.

"Do you understand?" he said slowly, enunciating each word. "I saved your life. You_ owe _me."

Her lips parted, and then she coughed slightly. He felt her give an imperceptible nod. A rising glimmer grew in her optics, and was abruptly followed by a low, viscous chuckle that sounded as if she was trying to clear syrup from her vocalizer.

Satisfied, Starscream released his grip and pushed her away from him. She staggered, grabbed onto the edge of the table for balance. The cold blue lights of the workbay flickered across her plating, lingered on the silvery, jagged strip running across her dark chest; a stylized lightning bolt that drifted from left to right.

Slowly, she extended one arm, and flexed her fingers, watching the grey metal flex and bend at the joints.

The words came slowly, with pauses in between each one. At first, they rolled out of her chest strangely, half-growled, half-slurred and swallowed; her mouth struggling to form the phrases before they escaped her throat. She worked her jaw, tried again, and this time she managed to match syllable to motion.

"On a... positive note, I'm never going to have to try on jeans again. You know, I always... hated that."

"Ah, " he replied, but he was completely confused. He looked her over as she contended to take a step sideways, keeping her hand flat on the table, supporting her weight fully with one arm. Another step, then another, and then she hesitated, went completely still, her attention caught by a flicker of light. She didn't track it with her eyes, though; instead, her head swung down, and she sniffed along the edge of the table, following the tiny gleam intently until it slipped off the corner and fled into the dark shadows of the room.

The table's scent was heavy and thick; some sort of oil dripped down the side and had pooled below on the dull metal floor, wide puddles of multicolored ooze. The floor seemed to be on a slight slant - no, it _was_ on a slight slant - the liquid was trickling slowly down to a rusting grate in the middle of the floor, dripping through the slender slats. Tools were thrust through the side of the bench, and long clusters of wires trailed down underneath, the electricity purring softly through the connections in a contented hum. Carefully, Dart brought one finger up to touch the bladed end of a drill bit, then let her hand slowly trace down the tapering whorl.

Starscream observed her silently, bringing his hand up to rub lightly against the dark sharpness of his chin. _Her armor will never be like my own. The Earthen materials, even when combined with ours, are simply worthless. But she's much lighter than I am. I doubt she even weighs half as much as I do. It will be suitable for battle, of course, but she will not take much direct contact before she will be rendered inoperative. I shall have to fix that later. Ahh, there, now she's let go of the table - it seems that she can move herself - that she'll stand upright on her own, control her legs. Good, I'd wondered about that part, but it seems that neurological pathways follow the same general routes on both the lesser systems of humans and the advanced ones of Cybertronians. _

She stopped sniffing at the drill bit and glanced up at him, inclining her head. "What are you looking at?" she asked.

"You," he replied.

She looked down at herself, and then back up at him. "Oh. Er, okay..." she offered, as her legs scissored out from under her again. She managed to catch the edge so she didn't land flat on the floor. Grabbing the metal, she suddenly stared at her fingertips with intense scrutiny, then pushed back upwards. With a determined grimace, she released her death grip on the table and took a step towards him, then another. Strangely, he noted that her stride was quite different from his own - he walked heel to toe - but she seemed to do the opposite.

The door flew open, noise and activity spilling in from the hallway; sound snapped across her audios like a branch breaking in half under A startled yelp, and reflexes grabbed her, caught her up and sent her bounding forward. Starscream cursed and threw out his hands, unable to stop her before she crashed into him. Lanky limbs tangled with his own, and his wings tipped back, overbearing him. They both flailed at the air for a moment, her knee clanging off a place that would have been quite uncomfortable had he been human - right before her weight drove him down and sprawled them on the floor.

Starscream tried desperately to untangle himself out from underneath her and scramble to his feet. His hip was crushing his forearm to the floor, and the end of his null-ray was pinned as well. He wriggled, trying not to break off the end of the weapon and ruin it. _Those damned Constructicons, I'll kill them myself for this intrusion._ _I know I locked that door, no one has the override codes. Who would dare to disturb me right now, I gave specific orders not to come in this room._

"I take it you are finished."

"Megatron!"

"Starscream, once again, your powers of observation amaze me," the Decepticon leader said with heavy sarcasm. Behind him, Soundwave stood, as impassive as ever. At the blue mech's feet, barely coming up to his knees, Rumble and Frenzy stood, weapons clutched in their hands. Both of them started at first as they took in the scene, then slowly began to grin at Starscream's predicament.

_Okay, now there's something you don't get to see every day. Starscream on the repair bay floor being straddled by some lanky mech, _Rumble thought. It was immediately followed up with the thought that Reflector was never around when you needed him to be. The burst of laughter that escaped the small cassette-mech was sharp and brassy in the silence.

"Looks like Screamer's got his hands full!"

The figure flinched, and snapped its head away from the sound.

Frenzy howled in counterpoint. "His hands? I'd say his... hey, wait a minute. Hold on, Rumble - that's a _girl_!"

"What?!" Rumble gaped. "We have girls here? I've never seen a girl here."

"I have," Frenzy replied instantly. Okay, so he never had actually seen a girl here, but any chance he got to upstage his brother he seized and pounced on; a ravenous wildcat locking down on a chunk of bloody steak.

Rumble turned on his brother, raising his gun as if he was about to beat him in the head with it. Actually, he probably was - the only thing that kept him in line right now was the fact that Soundwave was towering silently over them both. "You're such a liar."

Frenzy grinned, ducked to the side, spreading his hands in apology. "Oh right, right, wait, I'm wrong. It can't be a girl. Cause if it was, you think she'd be sitting like that on Screamer? No way."

"Oooh, point."

"Shut your relays, both of you, before I shoot them out," Starscream glowered. He loathed them, these two little yes-mechs of Soundwave's, and it had to be them that saw him at this blasted moment. A snarl of embarrassment escaped him, but he managed to finally jerk his arm free from where it was pinned underneath his flank. Instantly, he brought it up, locked his elbow, and slammed the heel of his palm into the center of Dart's chest. The shove sent her flying back, and she landed flat on her rear-end with a clang, hands outstretched behind her. Freed of her weight, he lunged to his feet. Dart struggled, scrabbling for purchase on the cold metal, then blinked stupidly up him.

He glared back at her. _Don't say one word..._

She opened her mouth, but whatever she was going to say was drowned out by Rumble and Frenzy's laughter.

Deliberately, the bulk of the huge grey mech shifted; Megatron held up his hand, and then his optics locked onto Starscream's. Underneath that pinning gaze the Air Commander's wings twitched as if he were a skewered butterfly, and he crossed his arms, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"So - this," the Decepticon Commander said, slowly, "is what you found?"

"Yes. I told you-she was- "

Ignoring Starscream with great deliberation, Megatron strode forward, leaving Soundwave and the others behind. He didn't move towards Starscream, though; instead, he struck heavy footfalls across the gap until he was towering over the girl, his bulk casting a shadow that stretched to the opposite wall.

"On your feet," he told her.

Dart didn't even think to argue, as a matter of fact, she'd been attempting to get there for the last minute or so. As she struggled unsteadily up, her nose barely came to somewhere in the middle of his chest. What filled her vision now was a splash of color; deep violet standing out brightly against the gunmetal grey. Nervously, she ducked her head, glanced anywhere but him: the consoles, screens glowing green, a repair bench, the two small robots twittering back and forth. With a low chuckle, the huge mech lifted one hand and brought his finger under her jaw. He lifted upwards, not giving her any choice but to tilt her head back. A languid motion locked his optics on hers; he held her there, intently watching her response.

His scent rolled across her sensors, odors being forced down into her systems with her having any sense of what they stood for. Her mind began to analyze things; tearing down each component into the parts. Cordite? Something that smelled like silver polish, a deep, acidic bitterness that drifted from the huge mechanism. She trembled again, and this time, the black fingers tightened, his mouth slowly shifting from a frown into the faintest of smiles.

It wasn't a kind smile, nor a or friendly one. It curled back from his lips and settled coldly into his red optics.

A faint shudder worked its way up her back and set that metal strip across her shoulders rattling again.

"Interesting." The Decepticon leader said finally. "So. What was your mission that landed you here?"

"My mission?" she parroted, unsure. "Mission? What mission? I think there's been a mistake. I mean a really big mistake. . . see, I'm not– "

Megatron blew out a huff of air and gave her chin a hard shove upwards.

Her mouthplates cracked together and she let out a yip of surprise, attempted to duck away from him. His hand wrapped around her jaw, and he wouldn't release her. "Don't start." he ordered her sharply. "I would hate to think that Starscream's stupidity is catching."

Starscream offered him a broody glare. Rumble and Frenzy laughed harder.

"I asked you a question," he said. "Answer it."

Frantically, she tried to search out Starscream, trying to pick up a cue on how she should answer. Okay, that wasn't going to work, she couldn't manage to catch his eye. He was turned to one side, arms crossed haughtily over each other as he looked out the still open doorway. Voices sifted in from outside; and her sharply-tuned audio sensors picked out a few words over the burst of low laughter that accompanied them: scavenger, moron, insufferable, second rate usurper. Huh, it sounded like someone was being seriously insulted out there. Yeah, now they were calling them a bargain basement buffoon. How strange. Did a place like this - all sleek metal and sharp corners - have a basement? Or anything even along those lines to make it a home: a kitchen, living room, or walk in closets? Wait, why would anyone here need a walk in closet, unless they really did try on jeans after all?

She was trying to decide if giant robots preferred button fly or zippers when a finger tapped out impatient morse code along her cheek to remind her that the mech looming there was still after a reply.

_Which question does he want me to answer? Wait, wait, uh, no. . . It can't be the stupidity one. _

"I honestly don't recall." she finally mumbled, shifting her hands so they were palm up in supplication. Her shoulders drew in on themselves, as if she was trying to make herself smaller, less noticeable. "It's been a while since I had a body . . . or a mission for that matter. I think I'm still trying to learn to walk."

"Are you?" he said.

She nodded as much as she could, but tried to draw back once more from the pressure on her jaw. It felt like his fingers were boring into her face.

"I didn't give you permission to move, did I?" he told her coldly, leaning closer to her until her entire field of vision was filled with the sharp, angular planes of his helmet. She practically felt the heavy weight of his look; his optics scanned along her features as if he was seeking worth there, in the curve of her cheek, or the dark blue slants of her optics. Warm, dry air blew across her face, forced out of his intakes in a disdainful breath. She struggled to keep her expression level after the first small whiff snuck down her throat. The mech's exhale reeked of ozone, of carbon and rust, internal processes breaking down the fuel within him and expelling the waste.She flinched as an odd noise swished in her audios; it took her a second to realize it was just the hammer of her pulse, galloping rapidly through her systems. As her knees locked, she went stock still. Some long buried instinct slunk to the forefront of her brain; it submitted to him, lifted her chin slightly, pressed back against his fingers to expose as much of her throat as she was able to. Her optics shuttered closed.

"No. . . sir. You did not, sir."

He grunted, a thickly metallic sound and released her. She quickly backed up a few paces and brought her hand up to her jaw, trying to rub away the discomfort. Opening her mouth and closing it brought relief in the form of a grinding pop, but couldn't take away the feeling that the hand was still there somehow, or that she'd been appraised and completely dismissed.

"I suggest you find your legs rather quickly, female." Megatron offered, "I have very little use for mechanisms that can't even stand, let alone fight. Perhaps I was rather hurried in letting Starscream revive you. Was there a reason you were scrapped into space, or should I just assume that dwelling in Starscream's body for a while has just temporarily infected you with his grandiose sense of self-worth?"

Dull, sullen anger etched itself in every feature of Starscream. His wings stood out from his sides, rigid with temper; his optics seethed brighter with every pass of fuel through his systems. The Air-Commander's gaze was locked on the center of the Decepticon leader's chest, as if by the sheer force of his hate, he could peel away the layers of metal between him and the oily workings within, expose Megatron's main pump. His fingers twitched, imagined that slick cylinder between them. He would crush it slowly, watch the rivets that crimped it together fling themselves around the area like bullets; ended life winding in warm, glowing ribbons between the gaps in his joints. Then the rest of them would bow to his leadership, and he would conquer the Autobots once and for all, strip this stinking mudball of a planet bare and head back to Cybertron.

Starscream's smile coated itself with venom as his mouthplates ground together slightly. The resulting noise was reedy and high-pitched. It was instantly echoed by another sound; a strange, low growl of warning.

Megatron swung his head around, optics locking on Starscream. Eons of well-honed suspicion darkened his expression, and the fusion cannon mounted on his right arm twitched, coming even with the Air-Commander's mid-section.

A bound and it was Dart who was abruptly standing in front of the huge mech, Starscream's form shielded partially behind her narrow chest. The thin metal strip on her back tipped up, peeking over her shoulders as if it were the hackles on a cybernetic hound. Megatron's expression was one of utter boredom as he sighed and casually countered, his lazy grab locking his fingers around her wrist. A quick pivot from the hips, and he swung her upward by her arm. Deep in her shoulder, the rotators tore a chunk out of the wires, and she yelped in pain. Her mouthplates snapped at nothing, the low growl now a frantic, frightened snarl. He chuckled and lifted his arm over his head, letting her feet dangle meters from the floor, watching her twist back and forth under the weight of her plating.

She kicked out with one long leg, the force of the blow slicing the air between them, but not even coming close to landing anywhere near him as she twisted back and forth.

Again, the low chuckle.

Rumble drew his gun. Frenzy imitated him instantly, aiming at the female, but they didn't fire as Megatron held up his free hand, fingers spread. He watched her struggle, rolled his optic in amusement. Then he turned his head to look directly at Starscream.

"You're an idiot."

An incredulous look passed over the other mech's features, and he flared his wings, shrugging one shoulder offhandedly. "Surely, you don't think I had anything to do with that, oh Mighty Megatron?"

"I haven't forgotten your last project."

Starscream's innocent blink wasn't quite up to par. "What project?"

"The Combaticons."

"Why, Megatron, that wounds me," the mech said, bringing up a blue hand to cover the center of his chest. It also conveniently protected his main pump, but of course, that wasn't on purpose. "I was merely thinking of our ongoing battle with the Autobots. As always, I was only trying to bolster our forces, and give us the edge we need to destroy them and get back to our beloved Cybertron."

The Decepticon leader looked up and down the robot dangling limply in his grasp. Her mouth was slightly open, optics glazed. The metal across her shoulders chattered like the teeth of a terrified roto-rat.

"Ah yes," he said. "We're saved."

As he opened his hand, she dropped hard to the floor, her legs nearly going out from under her again. Casually, he turned and slapped the end of the fusion cannon into her mid-section. Metal thudded against metal, and the gun scraped along the edge of her hip with a heavy shriek. The blow sent her flying to land back against the console of a nearby computer, which shattered at the impact. She hit the floor, lifted her head, dazed, but trying to regain her feet. _Don't go down, you go down and he'll tear you apart . . . you know it. _She forced herself to stagger up, took a step forward -

There was a loud clattering noise as she crumpled against the metal floor. Megatron stood there silently, looking at her.

It crossed his mind that if he blasted her now, it would probably solve many future problems that might occur. Then again, Starscream's projects always seemed to backfire on him; and in doing so, it provided Megatron with a few hours of amusement to break the boring monotony of the days on Earth.

His gaze slid back to Starscream.

"Pathetic," he noted dryly, lowering his arm."However, she obviously has more courage than you do, Starscream. But that's not surprising, to anyone, is it?"

"Nope," Rumble replied.

"Uh uh," Frenzy echoed.

Even Soundwave's chin dipped in what could have been a slight nod.

Megatron chuckled. "Go, Starscream. Get her up."

The Air-Commander made a rather rude gesture as he turned his back on them all. He grumbled something under his breath as he walked over to her. Dart didn't seem to notice him; her optics were trained on some far away point, as if she was half-aware of her surroundings. A low growl still vibrated her plating, and he grabbed at her shoulder, sharply. She yelped, and turned her head as he accidently jabbed a finger into the torn wiring. "Quiet," he ordered as he lifted her to her feet. "Shut up. Now. Do you want him to kill both of us?"

She blinked, and shook her head.

"Nor I." Starscream affirmed, letting go of her as soon as she regained her balance.

"You!" Megatron ordered her suddenly. "Come here!"

Her optics flickered to Starscream, searching for a cue. A jerk of his chin was all he offered - a barely perceptible nod. Then he turned away to study some point on the wall. Unsure, hesitant, she slunk her way across the metallic floor until she stood in front of Megatron, clutching her injured shoulder with her good hand. He gazed down at her thoughtfully, rubbing his square silver chin with his hand. "Declare yourself, female."

"Her name is Dart." Starscream replied quickly, cutting her off before she could say anything.

"I didn't ask you, did I?" Megatron snorted. Starscream took a step back, but the Decepticon leader merely ignored the sniveling wretch. "Dart. Well, Dart, there are a few rules you need to understand here. One, I am the Decepticon leader here. And two -" here he brought up the fusion cannon until she was looking down the barrel, "if you ever attempt -poorly, I might add - to attack me again, I won't give you a gentle reminder that it's unacceptable. Instead, I'll blow your damn head off. Do you understand me?"

"Yes. . . yes sir."

"Excellent." He turned and prepared to leave the room. Then he stopped and cast a glance over his massive silver shoulder at her. "I do like your respect, female. Perhaps you will be kind enough to teach it to Starscream." Starscream glowered at the words and for a moment, his optics met Megatron's. A cold stare passed between them; finally Starscream turned his head and gazed at the floor. Megatron smirked, then strode past the waiting Soundwave, who followed him without a sound, Rumble and Frenzy tagging along, shoving each other every few steps. Neither Starscream nor Dart moved until the hollow footfalls echoed far down the passageway. Then Starscream let out a long sigh of relief, slamming his hand down on the button that lowered the door.

A second later, he rounded on her, wings flaring out behind him.

"You _idiot_!!!" he shrilled, his voice rising to an odd pitch that grated on her newly working audio-receptors. She wanted to put her hands over the sides of her head, but something in her offered to shut them off, instead. Okay, if that was the case, where was the switch? While she was trying to figure it out, he continued, his vocal range squealing like fingernails on a windowpane. "I didn't do all of this and nearly get myself killed just to have you do it for me!!!"

"Hey!"

The word exploded from her like a bark, staccato and sharp. She stamped her foot onto the metal floor, and let go of her shoulder long enough to poke a finger right into the center of his chest. It made his ranting stop short as he stared at her with utter surprise.

"I didn't ask for you to do this. And I didn't do it to _myself_," she told him, indicating her chestplate. "And, guess what, I'm not an idiot, no matter what you think right now. Because, if I was, I probably would have said what you obviously _didn't_ tell him, right? Like, 'well, golly-gee, Mighty Megatron, I just thought I'd rescue a human from death and make her look like a bad actor in a Japanese monster movie!' I'm blind-flying this one too, in case you hadn't noticed! I thought he was going to kill me, and then I thought he was going to kill you, and then whoops, back to me again!"

"He probably was!" Starscream shrieked, throwing up his hands in a universal gesture of frustration.

"Well, he didn't, did he?"

Taken aback, Starscream had to admit to himself that she had a valid point.

Dart shrugged her shoulders , winced, and clapped her hand back over one of them. "Plus, er. . .he didn't ask any more questions, and well, I just wanted to get away from him, honest." She looked at the floor, scraped her foot along it nervously, pawing at the metal underneath. "I've never felt like that before. I didn't do that on purpose, I don't know what I was thinking, I didn't mean to go after him like that. I mean, I went after him . . . it was sort of like something else took control for a moment." She shuddered suddenly, a worried look on her grey face. "You know, I don't think he'd approve of what you did to me. He obviously doesn't like you much."

"Understatement," Starscream said, rubbing his forehead with the back of a metallic blue hand. A look of exhaustion passed over his features.

They stood, looking at each other. Abruptly, she wrapped her fingers around her shoulder again, her thumb massaging the sore metal. "So, now what do we do? What if they start putting things together?"

"I hardly think anyone here would ever put this together," he said wryly, shaking his head. "Even I am having a...uh, rather difficult time with it."

"Um, you know, that's good. Because, er, I would hate to think that it was only me."

* * *

"Any objections?" 

_Like anyone would be foolish enough to object right now_, Starscream thought, shifting his weight back on his heels. He crossed his arms and tapped his finger against his elbow, irritation creating a rhythm that was more often found in badly composed drum solos. _What our fearless leader wishes he gets, even this attempt at some sort of formality. Pah. Utter nonsense. Not that I don't mind a bit of ceremony every once in a while, but this is- I know what sort of fool mechanism he is. I've explained everything to her that I could in the last few weeks. She knows that Megatron is nothing more than obsolete scrap just waiting for someone to wrest command and lead us to the victory so long denied us! And that someone shall be me, Starscream!_

"So be it!" Megatron thundered, making the Air-Commander start and look around to see if he'd accidently been thinking out loud and was about to get shot once again. No, he wasn't. "Well, then, Dart. Welcome to the ranks of Decepticon glory once more." With a sweeping motion, the Decepticon leader lifted his hand to his chest. The barrel of the fusion cannon gleamed in the dim light. "Hail Cybertron."

In front of the massive grey mech, Dart stood, knees locked in an effort to keep the metal across her shoulders from rattling. Red pinpoints flickered around the dim room; eyes of robots that were watching the proceedings with expressions that ranged from utter boredom to complete lack of interest. She got the feeling that they all wanted this to be over with as soon as possible so that they could get back whatever game they were covertly involved with in the back room. Okay, maybe that was her feeling at the moment, and she didn't even have a game of cards to get back to. Ah well, so much for being the fourth at robo-bridge.

She knew what she was supposed to do. How she was supposed to answer. Starscream had drilled it into her over and over again; every time she had faltered her response or been distracted by a whiff of smell, it meant two more hours of standing there until she had corrected herself to his satisfaction. This finally had culminated in Starscream gulping down a series of stiff energon drinks, none of which seemed to help. Well, she took that back - it had helped her - when she slurred a word, he didn't ask her to repeat it again. She'd been oh so thankful when he had settled his head on the table-top, sharp chin nestled into the crook of his elbow, and drifted off into shutdown, still muttering under his breath in unintelligible speech.

Megatron moved his hand. The fusion cannon on his forearm twitched.

With a slight sidestep that sent her jittering a few feet to one side, Dart quickly nodded and mirrored his gesture. Her hand covered the purple symbol in the center of chest, her fingers spread across it. Slivers of purple nosed through the grey, hints of black outlines on sharp angle. "Hail... Cybertron." As the words left her, she ducked her chin, tucking it against her throat guard, set her jaw, hiding her expression as much as she was able to. It wasn't out of nervousness - even though she was terrified that it was all going to come apart in a moment, and he'd bellow out that she was a human, a fool, die die die -no, it was because of the horribly inappropriate thought that ran through her head.

_I pledge allegiance... _

Megatron's voice rose and drove the other lingering remnants of school desks and chalkboards away.

"Destruction to all Autobots!" he thundered, lifting his arm to the ceiling. The throat of the massive cannon gargled up a soft glow, then swallowed it back down.

"Destruction to all Autobots," she replied, but her voice was swallowed up by the concordance that rumbled from the mechanical throats lining the room.

Megatron nodded at his troops, a smile spreading viscously across his features. "Good."

* * *

Water dripped from a rusting pipe high in the ceiling. Over the years, it had left a long, ruddy streak down the wall. Trails of rust wound back over themselves, mineral deposits that were starting to etch themselves into the actual plating of the sunken craft. On the floor, lacework patterns of dried salt shimmered in the pale blue light thrown by the recessed lighting. 

The corridors of the mid-levels were traversed often inside of the crashed space-cruiser, but poorly cared for. They were simply a way to get from the living and observation quarters located at the top of the Decepticon base down to the massive turbines and pumps of the lower ones; as long as they didn't get big holes in the deck-plating, or too many of the lights weren't burned out, who cared? Actually, they really didn't care about the holes in the deck-plating either - those who used these routes of travel could loft themselves easily into the air and ignore those too.

Windows faced bravely outward, holding their militarily precise line against the darkness of the ocean beyond. At these depths, the water seemed to be no longer liquid; instead, it had drawn its constant motion into a smothering black blanket and draped itself across the boldly aggressive lines of the massive, once space-worthy craft. Each day the weight of the sea continued to slowly press the thousands of tons of metal into the silt and stone below, settling it a bit farther into place. Barnacles crusted along the sides feathered open in pulses, coaxing food from the icy currents that bubbled through the shattered, useless engines. Ghostly anemones beckoned small silverlings close to them with swaying fingers; and when the curious fish got too close, it was immediately stung, yanked close, and voraciously devoured, much to its disappointment.

Such was the day to day life of a newly forming reef, but the rasping voice that echoed down the corridor couldn't have cared less about the amazing ability of nature to cover up someone else's mistakes. Especially when those mistakes had to do with his momentary desire to wrest assumption of the mantle of leadership.

"Well, at least _that's _over with," Starscream muttered, stretching out his wings behind him, lowering and rasing the flaps along the edge to work off a bit of the tension that had accumulated during that overblown rigamarole of pomp and ceremony. "Accepted and done."

Dart eyed Starscream from where she was leaning on the rail, looking out one of the transparent windows of the base. A few glowing fish swept by outside, the deep black of the ocean making them stand out as if they were tiny far-off beacons. "Accepted or indoctrinated?" she asked, with a small chuckle, before her attention was drawn back to the fish. They flitted by again, drawn together in a tight school as they snapped up the small floating crustaceans that were attracted to the dim light cast by the pane of glass.

"In your case, I think they're interchangeable, really," he replied, moving to stand next to her. He kept distance between them, his wingtips sweeping back behind his flanks until they resembled an over-starched grey cape.

The fish whirled and rippled desperately away as his shadow dimmed the light; at first she thought it was because that they'd been startled by the mech's approach; but no, something else shot in front of the window, snatching at slender bodies with dagger teeth. Silver scales drifted after its passing, swirling on the currents, and the sea was suddenly desolate and empty again.

"Oh. Well... I don't know. I keep thinking that I'm going to mess up somehow. Get myself killed several times over. I'm terrible actor. At least I always thought I was. I should win a few awards for this performance. The best role played by a absolute wingnut."

"You _are_ a terrible actor," he pointed out, lifting his foot up to hook it over the rail.

She turned her head to look at him and lifted her brow; then she merely shrugged and laughed softly, lifting up her hands in embarrassed acquiescence. Her hand then drifted down to her hip, as if she was searching for a pocket to stuff it into. He cleared his throat, frowned, and flicked an accusatory finger at the gesture once more; immediately, she responded with a wince, clapped her hand back on the rail curling her fingers around the metal bar to keep them still. "Sorry, sorry."

"That's exactly the sort of thing I'm talking about, right there," he chided as he shook his hand in front of her nose. "Don't do it. It's completely, utterly obvious. The only reason no one's noticed is that they lack intelligence and imagination to do so. Megatron's troops aren't _all _the pride of the Cybertron War Academy."

"Yeah... but at least they know where it is."

"Where what is?"

"The Cybertron War Academy."

Starscream let a hiss of air escape through his lips. "Cy-_ber_-tron," he admonished. "Your pronunciation still isn't correct... well, unless you were a resident of the Chasm slums. Then, of course, it would be perfectly acceptable." He curled his lip, the very thought of the slums had wreathed him in distaste. He'd been assigned to patrol the Chasm a few times when he had first stepped to the side of the Decepticon cause. It had irritated him immensely that Megatron had sent him there. The Chasm was nothing more than seedy, disreputable bars, and pitiful, filthy denizens that he had to continually kick away as they begged for an energon chip, a bit of fuel; their voices piping across his audios with desperation. He loathed the neutral areas of the planet - they were a far cry from the high-rise, elegant residences of Vos. A sharp pang of homesickness nudged him hard, but then Dart was talking again, and her voice scattered away the memories, both good and foul.

"I know. I'm trying. I swear, but I think the best thing I can do is do what I've been doing and just say no sir and yes sir and keep out of everyone's way, right..." she trailed off, and then leaned forward a bit on the rail, nose almost to the thick sheet of clear glass. "Wow. Look at that."

"Look at what?"

"The fish," she said, pressing her palm to the smooth, cool surface. Under her touch, it revealed itself with a clang - not glass, but some sort of transparent metal. She ran her index finger over it, and drew a circle in the condensation that was beaded there. The little fish had come back now that the danger had passed; their flat saucer-eyes shown with lustrous phosphorescence, a strange, unearthly greenish-blue. "We're so far under the water. The pressure must be incredible." she said quietly. "I wonder how they do it."

"The ship was built to withstand the stresses of space travel."

"I still can't comprehend that we're in a ship. A spaceship... but, no, I mean, how does a little fish do what millions of pounds of metal does? I mean, I've never really thought about it before, but..."

Starscream leaned on the rail with his elbow, cupping his chin with his hand as he waited. It was hard for him to understand her amazement with transformer technology, and even harder for him to understand her fascination with the idiotic fish. Everything here was completely ordinary to him, including this place, a burnt out hull of a ship resting on the bottom of the ocean. It was a rather laughable wreck. If he had led them during the attack that had sent it hurtling into the water, no doubt it would have been different; they would no longer be stuck on this wretched planet.

Flat out, he loathed Earth. At first, he'd been indifferent to it, and the amount of resources had been rather useful - the humans didn't have a clue as how to best use them to peak efficiency. Frankly, that suited him; if they couldn't use what was practically handed to them- then why bother leaving them a single drop? Their world didn't matter; his planet was ancient, his culture far more important than theirs would ever be. Draining Earth of its energy could rebuild his world; bring it back to the glorious peak of the Golden Age. He would be standing in the towers of Vos, a drink between his fingertips and they would all raise their glasses to his glory. No more of these dreadful and boring military ceremonies, where all Megatron showed was his ability to create fear among his troops. No, he would woo them, win them, bring back light into the windows that overlooked the ruined cites; his name would be spoken in hushed breaths as the savior of the planet.

That was the way to win this war, that was what Megatron forgot and Starscream did not – all that the average masses wanted in the end was a bit of fuel, a return to their stable, comfortable lives. They would side with whoever offered it to them. Megatron might raze Earth to get himself enough energy to conquer the Autobot resistance temporarily, but Starscream would take it and use it to completely undermine any hold they had on the planet, and thus crush them forever. That was the way to end the Autobots once and for all - who would join a resistance when they were left alone and given everything they needed to keep on living? No one.

It made perfect sense.

Plus, once you lulled the masses? That's when you explained to the poor, simple mechanisms that the only way to keep their new, comfortable way of life was to conquer other worlds... after going so long without, he had no doubt they'd be practically falling at his feet.

Brilliant, if he did say so himself. The problem was, plans like this took time, and he'd never get the time in the first place unless he found a way to overthrow Megatron here on Earth. Oh, he would though. He had no doubt that one of these days, his superior intelligence would win over the power of Megatron's fusion cannon. All the power in the world couldn't stop a well-timed coup...

Dart's fingertip accidently slipped and tapped lightly on the window. The fish scattered again, taking flight at the strange sound. Disappointment slid onto her features as she leaned over the rail, brushing her mid-section against it, hands braced on either side of her as she pushed herself onto her toes, craning herself nearly in half with her efforts to peer into the darkness beyond the window. She could feel the strange sensation of her optics struggling to shift into long-range; there was pressure, a moment where everything seemed hazy and fuzzy - then it snapped back into that over-clear clarity, as if she was focusing through a telephoto camera lens. Vertigo, ugh. Quickly, she passed a hand over her eyes and made them refocus on the floor. Oh, better. Much better, even if all she could see was her feet. "I guess this is everyday to you, isn't it?"

He nodded once, his optics still fixed on a distant point in the darkness. His thin lips were twisted in a smile, but the look in his optics caused it to be a sneer. The blue lights from the hall hazed around the edges of his wings. "Yes." he admitted. "I suppose it is."

"I must seem completely stupid to you sometimes."

Starscream looked up at that, let the smile drift from his mouth. "Sometimes." he agreed with a shrug.

She turned her head and made a face as she lowered her heels back to the deck-panels. "Gosh, gee... you know, there's an old saying. 'If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all.'"

"Anything."

"What?"

"If you cannot say something nice, do not say anything at all."

Dart let out a long sigh as the thin strip of metal across her shoulders rattled back on the ball-joint hinges, settled sadly into place. "Great. Just great. To top off everything lately, now you've ruined Bambi for me, too."

"I think that this Bambi was already ruined to begin with. No wonder you can't pronounce Cybertron correctly, if he was your linguistics teacher."

She shuttered her optics in a blink of surprise, then smiled slightly. "Well, to be fair," she offered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other in a light sidestep, "Bambi didn't say that. One of his myriad subjects did."

"Ah, I take it that this Bambi was a ruler."

She nodded and managed to keep a completely straight face. "Great Prince of the Forest, in the end after all was said and done. I mean, he had his share of problems, any ruler does, right? People trying to shoot him, his palace catching on fire, but some of the things he taught and was taught, they were pretty useful. Things everyone should remember so that they stay safe and sound, such as - always look for danger before you step out into the open."

"That's common sense," he told her loftily. "Pure common sense. But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised – it doesn't seem all that common to this population of fleshy primitives."

She merely raised her left shoulder and shrugged. "I guess it doesn't. Part of our charm, you know. Er, lacking common sense."

Immediately, he snapped his head around, sharply, narrowed his gaze. "Once more. If you must say something, you say _their _charm. There are many here that would love nothing more to catch me at something, anything, and saving your life constitutes a rather large something. I am Megatron's second in command, and that means one day I will take his place as leader. There are many other Decepticons who want to be in my position, and they will do whatever they can to prevent my rightful ascension. I know who they are, I watch them, I always have to keep one optic on them. They fear me, though, and while I am truly worthy of their fear, it makes them... attentive. I'm sure that Soundwave - for example - records everything I say in his presence to review for later use against me.

"All it would take is one tiny slip in the wrong company, and then they'll scrap us - no, they'll scrap you, because you aren't one of us. If they ever found out..." he trailed off darkly, and then he offered up a soft sigh, his fingers spreading is silent concern. "There would be nothing I could do to stop them, no matter how hard I tried to prevent the outcome."

Dart lifted a hand, then nervously twisted her fingers back on the rail.

"I- I understand. I know. I mean, you've told me just how much trouble you're in just by doing what you did for me, I mean, this. I won't let you down, honest. I know I screw up, I know I'm going to screw up... I guess what it comes down to is that... hopefully I won't screw up in front of the wrong people, right? Ah well. That's part of their charm too. They never seem to know what to say at those moments when they should."

He turned his head, mollified for the moment. "If we're being facetious, yes. It is rather 'charming'."

"Er, I wasn't being facetious, really. At least, I wasn't trying to be. But that's okay." She leaned her elbow on the rail and cupped her chin in her hand, staring out into the ocean beyond. "You know, the more I think about it, heck, I'd just be happy walking in a straight line."

"As your neural pathways align properly, you'll find your coordination improving. Time will make the difference."

"Actually, they seem a lot better. I'm not smacking myself nose-first into walls as much, which rates on the positive side of things. If I could just remember things like this sticky out thing behind my shoulders," she grumbled, as she jerked a thumb behind her. "I'd be set."

"It makes you look normal. You'll adjust."

"Right now, it just feels as if I'm going to catch it on every doorway and flatten myself."

"I doubt it. The doorways in this place are made to accommodate an impressive wingspan. Which you don't have, flat out."

"Thank someone, ugh. Okay... You know, there's something I've been sort of trying to figure out since this morning, though."

"What's that?"

"Now what? Seriously. What now? I mean, I can continue to do what I'm doing. I'm learning fast, like I said before, just saying no sir and yes sir and saluting a lot seems to make it okay... but... what if they ask me something I don't know the answer to?"

He straightened, and flicked his wings out. Truth be told, he didn't mind educating her... it put him in a very superior position, and he enjoyed that feeling no matter where it came from. "Yes, I had thought of that already. If you are at a total loss, simply say that you are sorry, but you cannot access those memory engrams. Given the fact that I've circulated the information that you were pulled off of a damaged cube, there shouldn't be any issue with it. Under those circumstances, memory loss is quite common."

"Damaged _cube_?" she said. "What exactly does that mean?"

"Simple. For long trips, we often store personalities on data-cubes for later download into a new shell. It saves energy that would be wasted on the upkeep of otherwise useless individuals."

Dart's mouth dropped open slightly. "You stick people onto floppy disks so you don't have to upkeep them when they're uh... useless?" she said, backing away a step before she could catch herself. "So, what if they're useful? Do you give them the whole computer?"

"No, if they are needed for the voyage, they are not uploaded," he informed her, trying to keep the patronizing tone from creeping into his voice. She was as thick as the ship's plating, sometimes. "Those that are not needed are uploaded until the ship reaches its destination. It is a simple process, you see?"

"No. I don't see. You're telling me that I got stored on a disk, and... gosh darn, sixty four K is sure a good amount of memory, but now you've got me worried that my whole brain didn't fit on it. How can I be..." here she paused, and lifted her leg, bringing up a foot to paw suddenly at the metal beneath her. The tip of her foot rang off the floor; the metallic retort of someone striking a copper pot with a stainless steel ladle. It was a strange, stilted gesture, tense in leg and calf while her hip never moved. "It's a room with no windows. That's what it is."

"First of all, a data cube is hardly one of those flimsy, useless things that the humans use with their computer systems. Everything you had in your mind fit quite easily, with room to spare. If any information was corrupted, it wasn't my error, thank you. Besides, anything that might have been lost, I'm sure it wasn't important. As for the human's storage disks, I wouldn't wipe off things off of the bottom of my foot with those, let alone store information on them. Second of all, what are you blathering on about now?"

The pawing motion became a full-body jitter as Dart rocked from foot to foot, shifting her weight, and blew out a long stream of air. It settled on the window and fogged it up in whorls; beads of water began to trickle down, trying to outrace each other to the bottom of the framework. "I'm not sure. I just... it's a blank but it's not a blank."

Exasperated, he settled his hands over his hips and glared down his nose at her. His wings flared out behind him, and he pulled his foot off the rail and stood firm, his feet spread slightly as if he was anchored to the metal plating underneath. "What room?"

Dart struggled, and he watched her expression change from apprehension to frustration as she looked back into the blackness of the ocean.

"You know, I don't know. Something, I should remember, but I don't. Er, data cube. You were saying something about a data cube, right?"

"Yes, yes. The story that is known around base was that I found you on a Decepticon data cube and worked your shell construction off of your previous schematics. If a data cube is not properly maintained, portions of the personality it stores can be corrupted; memory is usually the most common, followed by loss of typical speech patterns, or coordination. It's a perfect excuse - if I do say so myself - to cover any gaps in your behavior. Do you understand?"

"Yeah. I got it. I ended up with a scratch on the floppy and now I skip levels on Apple Panic."

"Is that an inane human reference?"

She shook her head and leaned over the rail again, bringing her palm up to press it lightly against the transparency once again.

"No, no. It's a cheap video game reference."

"Whatever. Ah well. Just keep your story straight, and you're much more likely to live a long and prosperous life."

"It doesn't seem to have helped before," she replied with a wry smile.

"It will help now," he informed her, as he hitched his leg up on the bottom rail again, leaning his forearms on the top one. Slowly, his gaze returned to the water beyond the window. "What do you keep looking at that is so fascinating to you?"

"I guess it's just how dark it is... and how anything manages to see in it."

"Interesting point, really," he replied. "It's almost like space, you know. The ocean, I mean, Oh, not in the best respects - the ocean is cold and wet and rather foul. Someday, we'll leave this planet and I can show you what it's like to truly fly over the terrain of a true world, not this small, insignificant one."

Dart took a step back from the window with a sudden clatter, the metal across her shoulders clicking and rattling, but forgot to let go of the rail as the full weight of her body leaned back. Her shoulders groaned bitterly; the thin latticework support rods grumbled about how they were not paid for this sort of abuse, and immediately heaped it on the socket-joint deep within. It threatened to pop forward and she immediately stepped back to the rail, clobbered her knee right into the middle bar. "Ow..." she offered.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing. Whacked my knee into the rail."

"Stop fidgeting then. Besides, getting back to my earlier statement, someday is a long way away, I fear. Perhaps I should have said when I overthrow Megatron and assume the leadership of the Decepticons. Of course, then again, it might not be as long as I consider."

"I don't think I would be too sorry to see Megatron go. He honestly gives me the creeps."

"The creeps?"

"Earth-slang," she responded instantly. "Means he makes me nervous." Her fingers clutched the rail she was hanging onto tighter. Hands out of her pockets. She didn't have pockets - remember that, don't forget.

A soft, muted clicking noise echoed from up the corridor and both of their heads turned simultaneously to see who was approaching.

_Interesting. _

The transformer padded closer to where Starscream stood, the female poised beside him. The girl swung her head, thrusting her nose out towards the sound; immediately, the hiss of her intakes drawing in a gulp of air echoed through the passageway. Immediately following it came the scrape of metal on metal; the flat, solid curve of grey riveted to the back of her head had whacked into the thin strip raising warily over her shoulders, and the resulting bang of noise caused her to skitter sideways and nearly hit the wall again.

Metal ears rotated back to flatten themselves flush against a sleek black head at the racket. Caught in mid-stride, his paw poised above the ground, and then silently lowered it back to the floor-plating beneath him. Jaws gaped lazily, revealing a set of razor-sharp fangs, then closed as the low-slung beast moved forward once again, shoulders rising in a sharp peak above his narrow chest with every motion. _Perhaps Soundwave is correct in his assumption, spending long times off line has rendered her unstable. It's very probable that her personality and memory data was badly corrupted by exposure to the elements. Ah, more's the pity. She seems... hmm. Ah, well, I have time. There is always plenty of time. _

"Oh!" Dart suddenly exclaimed, a note of excitement in her voice as the black stippled shadows in the hall manifested themselves into a vague animal shape. Sitting upright, lean flanks drawn in, head lifted, it took on the likeness of an ebony statue. Not the sort that sat dignified in front of a library or a museum; no, it was one that guarded the door of an ancient tomb, worn gilt eyes observing the centuries pass with endless patience as it waited for a man foolish enough to break the seal and reap the consequences.

Dart didn't see that image at all, not even close. Instead she saw what she wanted to see, the curved rise of haunch, the head tilted quizzically, waiting for a gentle scratch between the ears. The short tail flicked restlessly, wagging. She turned around completely, tucked her legs awkwardly underneath her as she squatted down on her haunches. Her right arm extended, fingers curled back against her palm in a loose fist as she offered up the back of her hand for the animal to sniff. "Hi boy..." she called. "Come here, come on. It's okay..."

"Ravage," Starscream corrected her, with an internal groan, "is not a dog."

"Whoops. Sorry, sorry... Ravage? Well, I hope... er, you weren't offended too much," she apologized, laughing to cover up her obvious embarrassment.

As if in answer, the black beast got up and casually sauntered over to her. Dart's hand was still stretched out; the creature allowed himself a casual sniff of her fingers, drawing in the air past his olfactory sensors. She hesitated, then reached out her hand slowly and rested her fingertips under his jaw-line. The metal was smooth and cool, and had a different texture than her own; she offered the animal a light scratch under the chin. The other Decepticon studied her briefly, amber optics meeting the blue of her own. Then, he slowly lowered his haunches down to the metal beneath him; then took in a longer observation of the girl with a languorous tilt of his head, his mouth open and parted slightly, the tips of long, wicked fangs exposed.

"No, no, no offense taken. Unfortunately, it is a common mistake. It happens often than one might expect."

Low, smoky tones rolled out of that sleek throat, but the jaws didn't move an inch. It was almost as if the cat was speaking from the hollows within his keeled chest.

"You.. you talk!"

Ravage arched his neck slightly; a rumbling, but not unkind chuckle escaped him. "Only when I have something to say."

She felt utterly foolish, and stood, started to back away. "I'm sorry, I apologize, I didn't know you talked. I guess I didn't expect you to talk, you know, I sort of thought, well, I thought you were..."

"A dog..?" the metallic jaguar proposed, shuttering one optic with a knowing wink.

It struck her then that she had probably pulled the ultimate insult, calling a cat a dog, or a dog a cat, or who knew. "Um, yes. I mean, yeah, I thought so... but I'm wrong, er... sir." Dart didn't know if the honorific should be truly applied here, but she supposed it couldn't hurt.

With a casual stretch, Ravage rose to his feet and walked towards them both. "Ah. But, of course, you know how it is," he offered, passing by her leg so close she felt a light brush on the side of her knee. "I'm personally capable of far more cognizant thought than the average turbo-hound." He let his gaze drift up to Starscream, and then back to Dart. "So, I can completely overlook any imagined insult, and instead focus on the fact that your naivety is rather refreshing."

Starscream's frown deepened. _What is he up to..._

Dart laughed, settling her hands back to her sides. "You know, that's the nicest thing anyone's said so far to me here."

"I am always pleasant," the cat replied as he settled down to sit between them, the proton-bombs on the sides of his hips tilting harmlessly upward. Lifting a paw, he settled it silently on the bottom rail. "It is part of my charm."

Instantly, Starscream's optics narrowed. The spy/demolitions expert could very easily make his life miserable. Starscream wondered how long he'd been listening before he'd decided to make his presence known. _That bit about charm. What did he hear? What does he know? That bit about charm - he knows, he knows. No, he doesn't know, if he knew, Soundwave would be here already, and I would be dragged to the throne room to explain my actions. I wonder if Megatron sent him to spy on me,_ Starscream mulled in his mind._ Remind me to tell her to be more careful about the subjects we discuss, and remind myself never to discuss anything like this in public ever again. _

"What do you want, Cat?" he grunted.

Ravage continued to look at Dart. "Unlike some of those around us both," he purred, his voice barely drifting over the soft rhythms of his intakes. Starscream didn't seem to be able to hear the response; on the side Dart was standing on, the cat's yellow eye shuttered closed again, then reopened as he turned his head back towards the mech.

"I'm merely being a messenger in this case," Ravage replied. "I did not mean to startle you. However, I have been asked to relay the fact that Megatron suggests that it he would like to see what sort of combative abilities that Dart might be capable of, so he can assign her to a post as quickly as possible. He had mentioned the training room on level seven as being completely un-used."

"Combat abilities?" she coughed. _Uh, let's see. I took a course in self-defense once and spent most of my time realizing that there wasn't a whole lot I could do except run away and frantically blow a whistle. Besides, he saw me back in the repair bay, and oh boy, that was a joke. _She still didn't understand what had happened there at all; one moment, she'd been wondering if the smells were going to finally settle down, and then the next, she'd been dangling by her arm. She hadn't forgotten that at all. Dart shuffled her feet, rose up on her toes as the metal across her back offered up a nervous rattle that echoed down the darkened hall.

"I don't think I'm much of a combat machine," she said, with a wry grin.

Starscream silently affirmed that statement in his mind.

"No. You do not have that way about you." Ravage commented. "Do you recall what you used to do at all?"

"Do? You mean, before...?"

"Before you were brought back on line," the cat urged gently, his voice silky with reassurance. Buoyed by the fact that someone was merely offering a bit of kindness and not a harsh bray of sarcasm over her hesitance, she smiled gratefully down at Ravage. The cat inclined his head, and rubbed the side of his muzzle lightly against her knee. The gesture was so familiar it made her hand move before she could think about it at all. Her fingers slipped from the rail and started to flatten themselves between his ears, and then, an inch above his plating, she stopped. Where did it come from, this need to place her hand between the animal's ears as if she could draw stability from his presence? Wait, was it her that needed the reassurance, the pat on the head, a thump on her flank to tell her everything was just how it was supposed to be in the world, and not to worry about it?

Yeah, it was her. She let her fingers fall back to her sides, and the cat eyed her, then drew back, placing distance between them once again.

"I used to run a lot." she said wistfully. That she could remember, at least.

"Run? Messages, perhaps? That would make sense, I believe, based on a few observations of mine. Interesting. It is something we could use, a true data-courier. The Autobots intercept too many of our transmissions at times. Well... as pleasant as this conversation has been, you should be moving along. When Megatron decides something, it must be responded to quickly, politely, with no argument - this is advice offered freely. But, as always, I understand that advice is often completely disregarded by those who need it the most. Ah well. But, back to our original subject - speaking of training rooms again, why don't I go with you both? Possibly, I could offer some insight into your situation."

Starscream's fingers tensed on the rail. _What is this all about? He wants something, and I know that was a thinly veiled comment in my general direction about his observations of her. I'm just as vigilant as he is - I created her, I pulled her programming - something no one else here could have ever done- from inside that organic soup that passed itself off as her brain. I know what she is capable of, you arrogant creature, and you do not. I've fixed the problems I had with the Combaticons with her. It won't happen again. She won't stab me in the back - no, she'll stay grateful to me. After all, without me, she would never have survived..._

"Of course," he said finally, trying to work the words around his clenched jaw. "Your insight is always welcome, Ravage."

The cat chuckled again, and rose fluidly to his paws without a single sound. The missiles on his sides canted downwards, throwing deep shadows against his sleek flanks. "Polite as ever, Starscream," he told the Air-Commander as he started to walk back the way he'd come from. Was there a hint of deep amusement there, hidden in that purring voice? No, it was only the way it rumbled out of his inner workings, nothing more than that. "Dart, if you care to follow me, I can lead you down..."

Immediately, Dart pushed herself off the rail and hurried to catch up to the cat. "Thanks. I have no idea where I'm going."

"I know where we're going," Starscream offered peevishly, striding to overtake them both.

Ravage merely canted his head, and then slipped himself fluidly into the shadows between the two mechs. For a brief moment, he disappeared in the block of darkness cast from the Air-Commander's spread wings, and then he shifted and moved into Dart's shadow. His yellow eyes closed, as if he was lost deep in thought, and then slitted back open as he genuflected politely with one paw before finishing his stride. "Ah yes. Of course. Lead on... Starscream."

* * *

The door slipped aside with a quick pneumatic hiss, seemingly displeased at having to pander to the whim of Cybertronians once again. It revealed a dingy room beyond. Inside, the constant sucking sound of water pumps made the place resonate as if it was an overtaxed heart; half-clogged vents replaced the air within, adding the aroma of a slowly molding leather chair into the mix. One overhead bank of lights still worked, the other had flickered out long ago, and no one had bothered to replace them; this room only was a pass-through on the way to the engineering systems.

Most of those systems had long-since been ripped out of the ship once it was deemed that the craft would never leave the sea bottom again. The Constructicons had used them in creating the sub-domes; tearing out great hunks of the electrical cables, stripped the plating off the walls so that dark holes exposed the twisted crossbeams and broken, algae-slimed pipes.

This place was one that even Megatron didn't go often. In fact, it was a place most of the mechs avoided unless they were ordered to go there - in which case they spent a few hours to try and wheedle someone else to go in their place before they slumped down to the lower levels themselves.

This meant one thing at Decepticon Headquarters. Either it was a great place to hide the body of someone you didn't like, or...

Four Decepticons sat loosely around a table. One was in the act of lifting a cup up to his mouth, two others were hunched over the cards in their hand, optics narrowed in fierce concentration. The fourth was a mech that bore a similar body style to Starscream himself, so much so that if merely a quick glance passed over him, one might think they were created off an assembly line like toasters or other mechanical things. With scrutiny, the differences became apparent; the way the edge of a wing folded back, the narrow snipe of Starscream's chin compared to the curve of the other's broad jaw.

As he gave a small, uncomfortable smile to Starscream, Thundercracker swept the handful of credits in front of him into an open chest compartment. The shower of chips tinkled against his plating as if he had stuffed a handful of pennies into a empty pocket.

Starscream offered a perfunctory nod to the jet mech, but merely strode by the rest of the table as if they were beneath his notice. However, a flick of a wing, the turn of his head, and the sneer on his lips betrayed his obvious disdain.

_Stunticons. Ah, once again, Megatron shows his ability to create useless things. Peh, they can't even keep up with those in the air in their alternate modes. Consistently, all they do is slow us down in situations, and the fact that combined, they're a rather idiotic, dull-witted gestalt. The Autobots create themselves jets to argue with our supremacy of the sky, and we retaliate with poorly-designed mechs that have no use except to guzzle down our fuel stores and insult their betters. _

The Stunticons seated there shot looks at each other. Not a single one of them had missed that unspoken insult.

"Well, look at mister high and mighty," someone muttered under his breath.

"Why should I do that? What sign has he got riveted to his back this time?"

This immediately made the others break out into hard laughter, and the wise-cracker quickly used the opportunity to palm a stray credit chip and slip it into his wrist compartment. Hey, it wasn't his, but it was now.

"Does Megatron know just how you are wasting his time here. I suppose it is my duty to tell him..."

Red optics slitted in dour anger, hands swept holographic cards into a quick pile and stacked them neatly in the middle of the table.

"We weren't wasting time. There's nothing else to do right now. We're not on patrol, we're not needed out in the main bays, nothing."

"Oh, I'd consider this something Megatron could find fault with. A waste of Decepticon resources. Shouldn't you be scrubbing out the smelting chutes or something useful?"

"Pardon my ignorance, but exactly _how_ are you going to tell us how we should conserve Decepticon resources? Or how to deal with Megatron, for that matter? If we dealt with him like you do on a regular basis, I have to say, we'd need to install kneepads."

"Yeah. We'd wear out our knees, begging for Megatron's mercy."

Starscream's cold look smoldered and caught fire.

"What's the matter, Screamer?"

"Hey, give him a break. He's just a little confused," another offered. "He's finally managed to get himself over that weird fascination he had with lampposts."

"Naw, I thought he was more into trash-compactors." The transformer who said this flipped a glowing chip across the table at his red compatriot. They all started laughing louder.

"Tape-players!"

"I'd suggest cars, honestly," The yellow and purple deception on the right replied dryly, since he had been eyeing Dart's chestplate with a discerning look. The girl's gaze seemed firmly focused on a spot between the black tips of her toes; and since he'd seen enough of Starscream to last a lifetime in two short seconds, Drag Strip took the opportunity to let his optics wander over her. High on the leg, hollow-flanked and gangly, she merely offered up an air of awkwardness as she shifted her weight back and forth. His interest in realizing she most likely transformed into an automobile was soon followed by the suspicion that Starscream had shoved a thinly-veiled insult to the Stunticons forward. _My goodness - hasn't he gotten over the fact that we smashed his precious Combaticon team to the ground yet? _

"Really, Starscream, I never would have considered you would stoop so low as to give one of _your_ vaunted creations..."

Breakdown rolled an optic. "Self vaunted," he muttered.

"... what you loftily insult us for having, just a simple car mode," the yellow mech finished with a sideways cant of his head, his impression of a wink back to his team-mate. "Wasn't it you who referred to us last month as dirt-suckers?"

"That he did," Breakdown agreed. "I remember that quite clearly. He called us dirt-suckers. Miserable ground-bound dirt-suckers."

The fourth at the table raised his head as he finished counting his small stack of credits. "Yeah. And then we beat the circuitry out of those lousy Combaticons. Now, is it really surprising to any of you that his next project was a car?"

"Nah, it don't have nothing to do with us," the red mech replied. "It's just repression that stemmed from all the times he's gotten his skid handed to him by the Autobots."

Thundercracker was silent during this entire exchange. Really, he didn't care. Sure, it was fun to watch Starscream get baited, it always was. Mostly because he took it so personally, every minuscule insult, real or imagined, and those little things caused him to miss the really big ones. Such as the fusion cannon pointed at his chestplate or his head. Minor details, but ones Thundercracker prided himself on his ability to recognize and thus avoid. However, he also knew - you only baited Starscream so far and then...

A furious shriek of rage cut through the entire conversation as his arm came up to center his gun on the yellow Decepticon. "I said, enough!" he shrilled. There was a sudden burst of fire and the Decepticon who'd made the last comment tumbled backwards in his chair to lay on the floor unmoving. Starscream strode over and slammed his foot down on the Decepticon's neck, throwing his wings back, staring haughtily around the room. "Anyone else care to make a comment?"

Nope. Thundercracker didn't. He leaned forward slowly and took a last swallow out of the cup in front of him, then put it back down on the table with a sigh.

Breakdown's gaze warily shot around the room. Wildrider curled his mouth back into a snarl and glared at the taller mech. "Yeah, yeah, we got it. You're superior, sure."

Starscream said nothing. Instead, he ground his foot down harder. There was a grating noise that escaped the body on the floor as something shifted and perhaps broke. Thundercracker started to get to his feet, but Starscream gave him such a venomous look that the other transformer sat back down with an audible thud, wingtips dragging the floor behind his chair. After the second noise from the prone Stunticon, both of the other two transformers rose; they pushed away from the table and drew their guns, aimed them at Starscream.

"Back off, Screamer... " Wildrider threatened, as he moved forward, shoulders drawn and tense. "Let him up. We got the point."

A soft, low rattle made both of them jump, looking warily at the protons bombs on Ravage's flanks. It took them a second to realize it wasn't the cat, but the girl. Her optics were focused on the matte black weapons clutched in their grips, across her shoulders , the metal strip clacked a nervous patter; flared edges quivered under the strain. Both Breakdown and Wildrider glanced at each other - silent words passed between the two, internal comm-links agreed quickly on a course of action. Breakdown shifted his aim to focus on the girl, as Wildrider kept his gun leveled on Starscream's chest.

"Don't you start," Breakdown muttered, as he gestured slightly with his concussion cannon.

Starscream took that opportunity to throw up his arm, fist clenched as the null-ray clamped to the outside of his arm primed, ready to fire.

An explosive cough spat from Wildrider's scattershot gun, and Starscream whirled back as the spray of blasts barely missed him, rushing past the edge of his left wing and flank. The air itself seemed to singe at the firepower, the sharp scent of ozone snapped back into Dart's olfactory systems. It triggered something, caused her to dance back and toss her head as she tried to puff the smell out of her nose. Breakdown spun around at the commotion, saw the girl's abrupt motion. He snapped his body back towards her, finger hard on the trigger. The concussion vibrated the weapon in his hands as the blast tore across the room.

Dart's response was pure instinct. The sort of instinct that kicked in when your body realized before your brain that you were now an official target in the middle of a firefight, and it didn't want to stay there. Admitting it openly with a loud yelp of panic, she turned to scramble out of the way. Her foot pushed off the floor with such force that sparks flew back in a blue arc; across her shoulders, the piece of flexible metal clamped down and then tipped to the right as she flung herself to one side and sprinted towards what looked like the safest place -the other side of the room. With no living body to check its path, the concussion blast smashed into the wall with massive force. Metal dented as deep spider-web cracks radiated out from the center of the hit. The white mech turned to take a second shot, and was met with the sharp, high-pitched hissing whine of energy fire. His mouth popped open in surprise, then his optics dimmed. Breakdown swayed back and forth like a skyscraper buffeted by wind, then crumpled to the floor in a heap.

Starscream whirled around, the aileron-flaps on the edge of his wings rising to counterbalance the turn of his body.

Even in the uproar, Ravage hadn't moved an inch from where he'd first walked into the room. The only sign that he even noticed the rush of activity or the firefight was a lazy flick of his right ear. Casually, he settled back onto his haunches and opened his mouth in a soundless yawn.

Unfortunately, the thing preventing Dart from getting across the room in a perfectly straight line was the tactically placed table right in the middle of it. With a frantic, mad scrabble, she hurtled upwards, her leg tucked under her, knee almost to her chest. She landed hard in the middle of the table; what was left of the cards scattered to the four corners of the room.

Since Thundercracker was the only one still seated at the table, he'd rocked back in his chair, his wingtips braced like a camera tripod. He peered warily through the fingers of his left hand. At first he'd done it to protect himself from a stray shot to the mouth when the mess started. It had worked beautifully until now, because it wasn't going to stop whatever had leapt over the table and now barreled towards his chest-plate at a high rate of speed.

"Whoa!" he yelled.

Dart threw out her hands and kicked down her heels in attempt to slide to a stop. She skidded hard enough to tear a furrow in the tabletop. Quickly, Thundercracker grope-lunged across the table with his free hand, plucked Breakdown's full cup of energon from under her foot before she kicked it over or stepped in it. Yeah, yeah, so he had priorities.

"Okay, thanks," he said.

She blinked.

Thundercracker took a swig out of the cup, ducked as a stray shot went over his shoulder, and then tossed the rest of the contents down.

"Off the table," he told her as he wiped his hand across the back of his mouth. Energon droplets scattered across his fingers, and pattered across the floor. He reached for the second unattended drink, and looked up at Dart. A mischievous grin slid across his lips, and he leaned back in his chair again, wings and heels bracing himself against the floor. "Unless you know how to dance."

Aghast, the girl shot him a look that could only be described as mortification and scrambled off the table. She fled into the far corner of the room and flung her back up against the wall.

"I take that as a no," he called after her.

Starscream blasted at Wildrider as the red mech hurtled himself backwards. The Stunticon whirled in place, and then lashed out a leg to upend the table so he could use it as a shield. It lifted into the air and thudded down hard on its side, quivered as if it was an animal on the highway wiped out in a tragic hit and run accident. Thundercracker barely had time to snatch the third cup off out of the air as it bounced upwards, and he hurried across the room, splashing the liquid down the front of his chest. "Awww, blast it!" he cursed, wiping his palm across his yellow-tinted canopy. Ah well, he didn't want it to go to waste. He brought his fingers up and sucked the liquid energon from between his joints.

Dart cringed and ducked as another stray blast of plasma tore across the room. Thundercracker raised his browplate, mildly amused at her reaction, lipped off a stray drop that had dribbled towards his elbow.

"Get used to it," he recommended.

Whatever reply she was going to say was lost when Wildrider went tumbling across the room to land at their feet. Thundercracker hopped nimbly over the prone mech, his heel-thrusters flared as he added height to the jump. Dart attempted to do the same vault, failed miserably, and stumbled. The strip of metal across her shoulders wrenched backwards as she struggled to regain her balance, and she floundered, her arms flying up in the air as she crow-hopped. Her weight came fully down on her left leg.

Crunch.

Wildrider's fingers were not impressed with where Dart's foot ended up. He yowled, and wrenched back, but couldn't free himself with the leverage he had. With a snarl, he whacked the flat of his weapon hard into the side of her thigh. "Get off of me, you twit!"

The girl yelped, leapt up in the air, did a perfect impression of a bronco as she kicked her leg out behind her, twisted, spun in a circle. Of course, all it did was give her the momentum to land hard on his forearm with both feet.

Crunch. Part two.

It was probably a good thing Dart didn't understand a word of Cybertronian. Mostly because she was happier not knowing that her ancestors apparently consisted of a skid-ugly turbo-hound and an over-energized Autobot. Wildrider reached up and slammed his free hand into the back of her knee. "Move!" She staggered forward at the blow, doubled over to clutch the joint with her hands, legs slightly apart, braced. As she let go and flexed the joint, her head whipped around, optics narrowed. A low growl worked its way out of her chest and rolled past her dark lips.

"You want to fight? I'll blow your chassis from here to Cybertron!" he yelled, finger tense over the trigger of his weapon as he shoved the barrel up at her.

Her hands came up, and she leapt back a step, the growl swallowed into a stammered apology.

The scattershot blast nearly caught Starscream as he lunged from nowhere and knocked Dart to the side. She ended up sprawled across the floor, barely able to catch herself with her spread hands. Wildrider's mouth fell open in shock as Starscream rolled quickly back up to his feet, wings spread and quivering behind him. A slow smirk spread over the winged mech's features.

_But-but- he never even attempts to take a hit he can avoid... what the heck just -_

Starscream shot him point blank in the chest, and the Stunticon dropped without further comment on this insight.

"Are you all right?" Starscream asked Dart. Thundercracker glanced around the room, decided that the fight was over and finished what was left of the energon with one swift gulp. Ravage made a noise rather like a chuckle and stood up, shook himself with a rattle of his weaponry.

"I'm... I think so." she mumbled into in the floor. He reached down, grabbed the piece of metal across her shoulders, and hauled her to her feet. She stood there, obviously shaken. "Thanks."

Starscream nodded. "You're welcome." Then his voice took on a strange tone as he observed her. "Be more careful next time. I don't want to have to replace half your systems. You take a hit like that," he said, pointing to the blemish on the wall, "I would say you would be severely damaged, if not fatally."

As she staggered around a few steps, she shook her head, blinked at him in surprise, and then nodded. "I will. I just can't seem to -"

Thundercracker tossed the empty cup in the corner as he frowned. "Well, that's all fine and good, but who's going to go explain to Megatron that three of the Stunticons might need to go take a trip to repair bay?"

It was Ravage's soft voice that interjected. "As it stands, I do believe, due to my personal observations of this situation, that we shall be leaving the base to better test a theory of mine, and have no time to waste. Thus, I shall ask you to deal with the situation as you see fit, Thundercracker."

"Er..."

The cat strode on by, optics lazily hooded. He paused briefly as Dart followed Starscream out, let their footsteps echo their departure before looking up at the mech again. "I suppose you could always do the truly logical thing and blame it on Starscream. Megatron shouldn't need more elaboration than that. After all... it is Starscream."

* * *

"You can."

Dart's optics were blue and wild as she stared off the edge of the Docking Platform. The tower lanced up from the dark ocean, a massive spire of bright metal. It shivered and trembled at each slap of the waves and wind against its cylindrical sides. If she'd been human, she would have instantly thrust herself over the guard rails and vomited. Since this body didn't offer that at the moment as a viable option, she merely clutched the rail tighter, legs spread slightly, a balking mule that didn't want to take that trip down into the canyon after all. Water licked at the base of the tower with a hungry suck and gulp. The air carried the spray up into her face; as she sucked in a gulp of air to steady herself, the mist condensed and trickled down the back of her throat. Wind rushed past her audios, obscuring all noise except the frantic pattering of her main pump. "I can't," she answered finally. "I am not flinging myself off that thing. I'll crash."

Yellow-orange intensity flared in front of her eyes as Starscream's foot thrusters passed less than a meter from her nose. He lifted himself over the rail, hovered in front of her, as if once he'd left for the sky, he could barely deign to touch himself to the ground again.

"You can fly." Starscream reminded her. "It's built directly into your systems, the anti-gravity hovers."

She shifted uneasily from foot to foot and shook her head.

"I like to keep my feet on the ground."

Ravage bounded silently forward, loped easily of the edge of the platform. He hovered there in mid-air, cantering in place; his black body left a vague, cat-shaped hole against the dark sky. "I shall leave you both to your discussion," he decided when he realized neither of them was going anywhere soon. "Meet me on the shore."

Starscream watched him go, then turned his attention back to Dart.

"Everyone will start to get suspicious if you don't fly."

"I don't care. I'd rather be shot to bits than throw myself off that thing." Her optics gleamed a greyish blue as she got the courage up to peer over the edge again. Immediately, she clamped a hand over them and ducked her head against her chest, swayed unsteadily. "I think I'm going to be sick. Can we get sick?"

"I never have, myself. But, if that's the case, do it over the rail."

Dart moved her hand away enough to glare at him. Then, she struggled to swallow down the morass that was trying to sneak back up her throat. "Know what? Just for that, I'm aiming directly for your foot."

"Coward," he noted dryly, crossing his arms and looking his nose at her in a superior sort of way. She gritted her mouth plates and her optics flashed as she pulled herself as upright as possible. Her legs trembled as if she were a water-spider caught in the rapids of a stream, but she rounded on him without pitching flat on her belly.

"Now, wait a minute..." she snapped.

"I should have let you perish, then."

"Maybe you should have," she agreed, and let go of the rail. Her hands flexed by her sides, "Maybe I should have left well enough alone. Maybe I should have called those Autobots you're always raving about. They would have shot you full of holes and that would have been it, wouldn't it? Lord Starscream the coffee table!" She laughed, a dry, disgusted noise. His fist clenched at his side. She tossed her head back and stared up at the dark sky. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? You just don't get it, do you?"

Starscream pulled his lips back, lowered his head. His hand slowly unclenched, his wings stretching out behind him and catching what little light reflected off the tower.

"I get many things. Stop sniveling and take to the air, or I'll toss you over the side myself."

Dart reared back, tossed her head from side to side, bringing up her hands to ward him off. He could hear the cables in her side moan out her terror in rigid tension.

"What more do you want from me?" she cried as she nervously sidestepped back until she pressed against the wall of the tower. "I can't do it, I can't jump off because I'm not like you. I can't believe that I can throw myself off survive. I'll crash. Planes crash, you crashed, I'll crash and I'll die. I may be like this -" she waved her hand over her metal form, "but inside, I'm still trying to reason what's going to become of me. You know what? You've expected me to be able to waltz in here and accept everything. Everything. Why don't you try and think for one blasted moment that you've suddenly found yourself human, with no way you can see back to what you were or who you are. Can't you even see it? Don't you understand?!"

"I understand you're better than you used to be," he replied with a shrug.

Dart stared at him, aghast, then she stared down at her chestplate. A shudder ran through her frame, a long tremor that rattled every bit of her.

He ignored it completely and lowered himself back to the deck plating with a hollow thud. "You can fly. All Decepticons can. It's built right into our systems, and part of what makes us superior to the Autobots. He stopped, looked out into the darkness, wondered if Ravage still lingered nearby. He'd have to be careful about what he said, and so he tried to pick the simplest statement possible. "You flew with me once before. What's so different now?"

"It was different," she replied, in a voice that sounded as if she'd swallowed a pool full of glass.

"Why?" he pressed. A jet of orange flame licked from under his heel as he lifted one leg; impatient for an answer.

"It was different..."

"Why was it different? You flew."

"I flew with _you_. I-I trusted you." she finally admitted, staring out over the ocean.

"You what?!"

Dart glanced over her shoulder at him, narrow optics too bright in the shadow cast by the brim of her helm. The salt spray tossed by the wind had dried to a frosty crust on the corner of her lips. Slowly, she brought her hand up, wiped the back of it across her mouth. It afforded her a brief moment to swallow down the foul taste creeping up her main energon relays. "I trusted you... what, is that so odd?"

"Actually, yes..." he replied. The last time anyone had trusted him Starscream thought he'd shot them in the back. He honestly couldn't remember for sure.

She didn't reply. Her gaze was anchored back somewhere in the throat of the tower, fingers so tight on the rail he heard it creak even over the din of the wind. Silently, he stepped towards her and extended his hand carefully, crooked fingers as he beckoned, and his voice lowered. "Listen to me. If we don't take off soon, the tower will retract with us still on the outside of it, and that would hardly be a good start to this evening."

He almost expected her to turn and dash away from him, dive back into the safety of the tower.

She said nothing.

"Listen... you'll damage the rail holding on to it like that, and then I will end up forced to watch you stand up here and repair it with a welder."

Dart let go. Obviously she didn't want to stand up here any longer than she had to - even with a blowtorch. At the motion, his frame lunged as if he was a snake, setting his fangs deep into her metal, grabbed her hand. Spooked, she tried to twist away from him, her intakes gasped; he held tight and her strength was no match for his as he dragged her towards him. The tower rocked slightly, the vibrations wound up the massive spire. Rivets in the metal panels groaned and popped under the strain.

They stood face to face, as the wind whipped around them. She made one more move to pull back, dug her heels into the slippery deck beneath her, and his fingers ground around her wrist. Dart turned her head from side to side, whined softly, low in her throat; the whisper of a terrified dog. Sea foam snapped at the raised platform with white-capped fangs, tiny organisms contained within threw luminous green into the air.

"I can't," she told him, and meant it.

"Fine," he decided, and snatched her legs out from underneath her. He slung her knees around his forearm, tightened his arm around her waist. She let out a yelp of protest, and tried to twist herself away from him. Too late, he'd kicked off of the platform, the bright flare of his jets trailing out behind him. "But I don't have time to discuss it with you. They're probably wondering why the tower hasn't retracted yet, and I do not want to explain your fear of heights to Megatron."

Dart took one look down, moaned thickly, and buried her face into the odd pocket made by his shoulder and shoulder guard. "Don't drop me," she pleaded.

"I have no intention of doing so." he assured her. Then he laughed, a harsh, rasping sound. "Besides, dropping you from here would serve me no purpose. It wouldn't kill you, trust me, but it would make you wet and angry, and I personally don't like you when you're angry. Not that I like you, but-"

"I don't like you when you're nasty." she mumbled into his plating.

"When was I nasty?" he asked, making a long sweeping path in the air. She clung to the edge of his chest plate, completely stiff. The only thing that moved on her was the metal across her shoulders. It rattled and banged and shuddered.

"Just now."

"I was merely being realistic."

"You were nasty when we first met too." The metallic tang of his scent was nearly lost in the wind, even though her nose was pressed tight against him. Faintly, the lights of a far away ship reflected a hazy pink in the darkness, then were swallowed in the swells.

"No. I wanted you dead when we first met."

"Well, you didn't do a good job of it."

"Would you like me to put you down?" he offered politely, swooped down until his thrusters made the tossed spray hiss and pop as it vaporized into steam. The sea gleamed thickly black beneath them; Dart felt its offer to take the burden of her weight and drag her into the depths; slowly decay her body into rust alongside the bones of the ships.

"No!" she cried and clutched the edge of his canopy until her fingers hurt.

"I thought not."


	4. Chapter 4

Dart sat quietly with her feet propped up on the monitoring equipment. _I'm finally starting to get the hang of this. Just look like you might know what you're doing and they assume you do. The only one I wouldn't dare try that on would be Megatron. I'd get my head blasted off for sure. He's a son of a retro-rat. Great. Now I'm even cursing like them. I think this body has a mind of it's own a lot of the time. I haven't been here that long... _What was it now? A month? Maybe two? No, more... less? She couldn't remember, and that threw her intensely, made her half rise from her chair to stretch out the tension in her back. _It's like I've never been anything but this. I can run. _

Her optics half shuttered, and she sunk back into her chair and smiled to herself, resting her hands lightly on her mid-section. One foot swung gently back and forth in her contentment as she tipped her head back, breathed out a long, burbled rush of air past her intakes. In her mind, she wasn't in this cramped, windowless room with the four grey walls, told to sit here and watch a green tinted screen for hours on end. At first, she'd sat rigid and straight in the chair, focused intently. Four hours into it, she'd plopped her chin into her hand and started to hum popular radio tunes in time to the electronic track-sweep of the monitor. Six, and now she was sprawled comfortably back in the chair, her imagination bounding free on a wooded trail, Douglas fir branches reaching out to pat her flanks, encourage her on, go faster, lengthen stride, run. Bantam creatures dashed away from her; once she'd seen the flash of white that told her a deer had bounded into the woods. The acrid pungency of its scent glands wafted back, and Dart had come to a sliding stop, thrust her nose into the smell, pulled it in. It broke apart, molecules sorted into new patterns, and with it, came recognition of the animal's fear. She was amazed at this - she hadn't known deer expressed fright in any way other than sheer speed. Was it to warn off the other deer from the area, a signpost of apprehension worded in sharp musk?

One final sniff, and then she had shot forward again, her peripheral vision completely blurred, even though directly in front of her was clear and sharp and overly crisp, for some reason. The darkness didn't seem to matter, either, her optics had adjusted to it... sort of. That one tree branch had smacked her upside the head for her audacity not to notice it and duck fast enough as she dashed past Starscream and Ravage where they stood watching her. Oh, she'd heard them talk, their words blown back to her on the wind; they muttered about her speed and her stride, sized her up as if she was an interesting prospect at Keenland. She didn't care. They could evaluate her all they liked, because she was giddy with her speed, she was sprinting, actually sprinting, and her knee hadn't complained once; not even when she'd thrust her full weight onto the tips of her toes and dug into the earth, head lowered, elbows pumping. The springy give the wet, black soil offered was even more than one of those fancy college tracks she'd once got the chance to run on, back in her life when they'd driven two days to a California meet. That synthetic surface had made her feel like she bounded forward on shock absorbers...

Maybe as a robot she did. She didn't know everything that this body was made of, or could do.

Well, okay, it could become a car.

Actually, to be precise, it was a Pontiac Trans-Am, this low-slung, sloped-nose sporty car with barely enough clearance off of the roadway for a ground-squirrel to run under. At least she could recognize it for what it was, she'd been afraid she was going to be some vehicle she'd never seen, much less pronounce correctly. That funny bit of metal that rattled across her upper back had proved to be the car's rear spoiler. How it ended up attached to where her shoulder blades had once been was one of those things she particularly didn't want to think about - because when she did, all that came to mind was the fact she'd never mastered how to get the colors back to line up on all sides of a Rubik's Cube without the persuasion of Mr. Screwdriver.

Dart squirmed back into the chair; even the thought of transformation made her feel like she had an itch taking a slow, leisurely crawl up her relays. The mechs made it look effortless - they seemed to flow into another shape as easily as she used to take off her coat. Not her, sorry. Not even close. Each time she did it, she had to completely come to a stop, and concentrate. It had also proved a good source of utter embarrassment; she'd snuck down to the depths of the base, practicing over and over, determined to figure it out so Starscream would quit his lectures on how to do it properly. She had honestly thought she had got it down, but now, she could admit she had been a bit cocky, deciding to break into a trot in the hallway and drop herself into car mode.

Bad mistake.

Bad, because then you ended up half-transformed, hood plowed into the ground, one tire partially inflated, fingers desperately groping along the edge of your fender to palm-whack your left door in an effort to break yourself loose and go one way or the other, robot or car.

Well, at least it had made Rumble's whole afternoon that day. He had helped her out too... after he'd collapsed for half an hour in peals of laughter._ It could have been worse, honestly. Thank goodness he'd been sent to the lower levels to grab some supplies for a building project Hook was working on. Double thanks because he found something he could rip out of the wall that worked as a pry-bar, or I'd still be stuck there looking like one of those wrecks they show you in those safe driver movies; all four tires off the ground, a chain attached to my bumper as they dragged me off. Wait a minute - does this car even have a front bumper? _

The whole idea of her as a sports car was pretty laughable. She'd never driven any wheeled vehicle but that old Jeep of hers; a clunker that had been truly held together by bailing wire and spit, with a few patches of duct tape slapped on for good measure. It couldn't go fifty-five on a good day, downhill... in a windstorm, even if she got out of it and pushed. This car -er her alt-mode- could, and wanted to; she had no idea how to control herself with all that torque and engine power it offered. When she attempted to go slow and easy, she stalled out and wheezed; too fast and her tires broke loose and threw her in circles like a dog chasing her tail, or smacked her into the walls of the hallway. Already, she was sure she'd lowered whatever her blue-book value was by a few thousand, due to the dents and dings.

_At least Starscream didn't make me into a plane. That would have been an even bigger laugh for everyone. I would be the only jet out there to taxi everywhere. _She scuffed her foot along the computer. The screen wobbled, beeped. "Shut up." she growled in an offhanded way.

"I assume you were not speaking to me, Dart."

Dart bounced straight up into the air. Her rump slammed back down into the chair even as she whirled around, nearly tossing herself out of the seat with the force of the spin. Ravage climbed gracefully onto the chair next to her, stretched his forelegs across the console as he settled into place, eyed her with amusement.

"Oh, no. I was talking to myself."

"Another of Starscream's habits you seem to have acquired."

"I had it long before we met," she said with a laugh, as she held up her hand, fingers spread. "Honest."

He gaped his mouth in a soundless cat-grin of his own in response, then turned his muzzle to point at the computer screen. "How long have you been here?"

"Um... I don't know, really. I think six or eight hours. I sort of lost track of time."

"I take it someone else once again requested you to take their shift at the system?"

"Starscream mentioned he had some things to take care of," she replied. "I don't mind, really." She didn't mention the comment that was actually said, which was that the Pride of the Cybertron War Academy didn't sit in front of a stupid console and wait for an Autobot to invade his airspace. A sigh snuck past her intakes before she could hold it back, as she thought of all the mundane tasks he'd set her on lately. The Pride of the Cybertron War Academy apparently didn't do much when it came to his turn to scrub waste oil off of the deck floor on level eight, either. "But... you know, this reminds me, I've been meaning to ask you a question."

"Ask away," he said after a moment, as he studied a non-existent speck of dirt on his forelimb.

"What exactly does Starscream do here? I mean... really do?"

The cat shifted his weight and crossed his front legs, letting his paws drape elegantly over each other. On his flanks, the bombs politely pointed towards the ceiling. "Technically, he is our aerospace commander. However, Megatron will probably destroy him sooner or later."

"Destroy him? I mean, I know they don't get along at all, really."

"Tsk. That's an understatement, and you know it is. Now, lying to yourself is all well and good, but lying to me, I must draw the line at."

She laughed again and shook her head with an exaggerated wince. "Owch. Yes, sir."

"That's better. Now, what it comes down to is that his obvious resentment for Megatron's leadership is not worth his ability to work for the Decepticon cause. He's arrogant, foolish, over-motivated to place himself in a higher position. I will grant him intelligence, but not common sense." Ravage replied. "The only reason he still survives is through a measure of Megatron's need to keep all the troops around him that he can. I would recommend you not to follow his path in any shape or form - although I fear my concern would fall on deaf audios. You seem to be one of those mechanisms like myself..." here, he trailed off, thoughtfully.

"What, under Starscream's command?"

This brought a full-blown laugh rolling from his throat.

"No no. Pardon me, but I would sooner process caustic energon." The cat opened his mouth wide and shut it with a snap of metal fangs. "I serve a much higher calling, I'm afraid."

"What?"

"An old jest," Ravage shrugged, an odd gesture for a cat's body. "No, I meant your loyalty. Is he worthy of it? I understand," he offered, raising a paw to silence her, before she could even think to respond, "that he is responsible for your rescue, of course..."

The jaguar caught her gaze and held it with unblinking yellow optics. That was what she found the most unnerving about him. Like any cat; be it domestic tom by a fire or tiger in the jungle, his eyes seemed to look right through you, measure your soul._ I don't know why everyone acts so frightened around him. He's the nicest one among them, really._ It suddenly struck her that out of all of them, Ravage would listen, and understand, and not judge her in any way. In fact, he might even help her not make some massive mistake, right? She could trust him, out of everyone here...

Intent, the cat leaned forward and tipped his ears towards her, let a soft draft of air pass his intakes. Warmth pooled across the back of her hand, trickled through her fingers as if it was actual liquid. "What are you thinking?" His voice drifted, low and thick - was it a growl, a purr, or no, it was a soft, sibilant hiss...

_All it would take is one tiny slip in the wrong company, and then they'll scrap us - no, they'll scrap you, because you aren't one of us. If they ever found out..._

Dart flinched slightly, and sat bolt upright; her flurry of movement broke the line of the cat's gaze. She whined softly in her throat, then brought up a hand to paw at her helmet as if bees were trapped in her audio receptors. The sound grew thin and wisped away, tattered into audio ribbons at the gesture. "Er, not anything important..."

Ravage's missiles were slightly raised skyward, as if they'd become silver grey hackles, but he smoothly settled them back in place with a languid stretch and nodded gravely. "I see. Not to anyone but you, I suppose. The cat stretched again, starting to get down from where he rested. "Farewell, then. Oh... yes, the reason for my visit." He stopped halfway down from the chair. "Megatron wishes to meet with all of us in the main hall, in two hours. Please be there promptly. Although, I doubt that will be a problem for you, courier."

She nodded , brought up her hand to the brim of her helmet in a quick salute, since he'd referred to her appointed function and not her name. It meant they'd drifted from familiar to formal, and he'd relayed his orders to a subordinate, not a friend. "Not a bit, sir."

The dark transformer's chuckle drifted back, even though the shadows had swallowed him.

* * *

"We raid the fuel dock tomorrow!" Megatron roared, smashing his fist down onto the console in front of him. The hologram map of the area displayed on the wall jumped and flickered as its projector reared back in surprise; startled by the sound, Buzzsaw flapped his long wings and teetered back and forth on his console perch. Black talons dug into the metal frame he was sitting on as he finally steadied, and the avian-mech lowered his head to gape his beak in an indignant hiss. Soundwave held up a hand to quiet him; the bird rattled his wings, muttered sullenly to himself in sharp squeaks and an electronic, trilling whistle, then shuttered his optics. The map on the wall fuzzed out of focus, then snapped back into sharp reset as he reopened them. Once again, the pitted metal wall displayed the sharp mountain peaks jutting from around the marine harbor. 

Dart shied sideways at the sound before she could help herself. Her shoulder smacked into the wall behind her, stumbled her a step forward or two before she could regain her composure. Rattling, her spoiler blurted out her embarrassment at bringing any attention to herself or causing any sort of scene - she tried to gather herself together and snap back up into military stillness.

The room was tight packed with mechanical bodies. Long shadows were cast across the floor in the dim lighting. It was partially illuminated like this because it displayed the map better; however, it was also that way because half of the overhead lighting fixtures had corroded with contact from the sea-water dripping through the vent systems and into the wiring. No matter how many times the Constructicons had crawled around in between the decks of the sunken craft, it seemed to be a constant state of struggling to keep up with repairs on the rooms that were closest to the hull.

Thundercracker and the Constructicon on Dart's left side shrugged at one another as if to agree that there was nothing out of the ordinary going on, then settled back slowly to lean against the wall. (Long Haul? Scrapper? Keeping everyone's names straight was an exercise in futility for the courier. Especially when they had the same color schemes, or basically the same body build.) She couldn't manage to compose herself enough to emulate them; instead, she stood there with her hands clasped behind her back like she was attending a funeral and crunched into the corner, optics downcast.

"We strike at dawn," the Decepticon leader bellowed.

"It would suit us better to strike at night. Surely the Autobots -"

"Starscream, your stupidity is only second to your arrogance." Megatron noted as he glanced up from the neat battle diagram reflected on the table. Soundwave dutifully ignored the two of them as he tapped instructions into the computer panel in front of him. Long Haul looked at Thundercracker, who merely shrugged again, his second one in so many minutes, and rolled an optic."The Autobots won't learn about this until they are too late to stop me. Unless, of course, you plan to tell them?"

Starscream snorted as he flared his wings out. They stiffly stuck out from his sides and resembled the pinned ears of a sulky cat. "Not likely, oh mighty leader. I have no intention of telling my enemies where and how to blow off my head."

"That's too bad. It would perhaps help your brain function better."

Starscream hissed angrily, stumbled over his retort. For a moment, he merely opened and closed his mouth, the pale ridges of the plates within grinding against each other in his frustration. A spark whisked out of the corner of his lips, but fizzled out before it even got to his shoulder. His left arm jerked, the tip of his null-ray edging upwards.

Megatron deliberately turned and ignored him.

Starscream focused viciously in on that one unprotected spot in the vast expanse of flat grey. If his optics were daggers, they would have sunk deep into Megatron's relays, twisted sharply into the network of cables. They weren't, though, and finally, gloriously angry at the obvious display of his own impotence, the winged mech took a stiff step backwards and sputtered out something under his breath, an odd, guttural flow of syllables that oozed through the underlying, high pitched roll of electronic feedback. Whirling on his heel, his wings spinning around him in a huff, the Air Commander strode from the room without a backwards glance.

Instantly, Dart felt relief loosen her legs, and they gratefully accepted the unthinking command to trot out after Starscream and leave the tension of this room behind as quickly as possible.

Megatron's voice growled over the patter of her footsteps.

"Where are you going, courier?"

Dart froze in mid-stride, teetered ungracefully until she remembered that the proper way to stand upright involved setting her foot back down onto the floor. Someone chuckled from behind her. It was followed by a clang and a grunt; Skywarp had been elbowed in the mid-section. A scuffling bang echoed as a quick punch was landed in counterpoint to that friendly nudge.

"Well? Answer me. I admit, I'm curious."

Two backward steps pinned her back into the corner from which she'd moved from a few moments before. Behind her, the wall was smooth and cold; this was one of the outer walls that faced the deep ocean, and the icy chill of the water made the walls unpleasant to lean against. Right now, she didn't care, but a strange urge telling her that she'd backed herself into a corner made her incredibly uncomfortable. It rose and got worse.

"I am also impatient," he chuckled, but there was no humor in it as his gaze rested on hers.

"Forgive me, sir," she said, as she shrank back into the corner. The side of her hip scraped against the wall and caused an odd vibration in her thigh, she started to automatically bend to support her knee and caught herself. Twisted halfway, she glanced up at the huge mech with trepidation. "I guess I... I just assumed that the meeting was over."

"Assumed," he said slowly, repeating the word with sarcastic disbelief. "Did I say it was over?"

Her head shook from side to side so quickly that her ponytail rattled along her neck guard. "No, sir. You didn't, sir."

"Then it isn't." he informed her, tapping his fingers along the smooth metal of the table. A slow smile curled across his features, his shoulders tipped back. Instantly, she glanced away to the side, setting her vision on anything but Megatron; oh, look, the bird, the map, Thundercracker's left foot. As she pressed deeper into the corner of the room, her spoiler wedged between the two walls. A dozen pairs of red optics turned to rest on her; obviously amused at the fact it was someone other than them involved in this sort of conversation.

Megatron casually flicked an imaginary speck of dust of his fusion cannon's cold barrel.

"Following Starscream is often a fatal mistake."

Thundercracker and Long Haul looked at each other again, then took a step away from her, obviously having calculated exactly how far her limbs would fly in the ensuing blast. _Oh, gee, thanks, guys, _Dart found herself thinking sourly, _that's reassuring. _

"I'm sorry, sir. It won't... I won't do it again. I'll remember." She tried to pretend she wasn't here, that she'd never meant to move an inch, her fingers laced so tight against the small of her back that they creaked.

"And well you should. Now, Soundwave... if you would, have Buzzsaw bring up the formations one more time. I want this to be a decisive battle."

* * *

"Attack!" 

Above, Decepticon jets shrieked through the sky toward the complex. A low wail rose and fell over the docking area as the first of the missiles struck home. A fireball tore a hole through the pylons, red-hot concrete flew into the water, sending up plumes of steam. Ravage sat silently, the proton bombs on his side shining dull silver in the washed out light of morning. A bright green tugboat, used for nudging the tankers into port, snapped free of its mooring lines, rolled up on the white-foamed waves and spun itself in a circle, its handlers trying desperately to bring the craft's nose to bear on the open water and get the heck out of there. Every ship, even the huge tankers moored along the docks, rose and rocked as the waves broke outward from the second bank of explosions. The alarm wail pitched higher, then died off in a gargling shriek of feedback as Skywarp's missiles struck home, effectively cutting off the dock from the land.

Rumble's low whistle was one of appreciation.

"Not a bad hit," he grinned. "Wish he'd let me in there to shake those humans up a bit."

"You would have shaken the dock apart. Hardly our objective." Ravage replied, looking up at the aircraft streaking overhead. "Ah. They're done. I thought it would be easy. The humans seem to understand when they are outmatched."

"Heh, yeah... look at 'em run."

"Funny thing," Dart grumbled, shifting her weight uncomfortably over the tips of her toes. "Let's see - a giant robot that can crush me under his foot, or run away? Hmm. I'd vote for the running."

"Aw, come on Dart, you'd always vote for the running, right? Besides, you're giving the fleshlings a lot more credit than you should. Most humans aren't that smart." Rumble laughed. He threw his gun into the air, tossed it playfully back and forth between his hands.

"Having fun?" someone called down to them.

Dart turned slightly to see Skywarp landing nearby. He had to take a few extra strides as he stepped out of his flight and lost the momentum of his engines. Carefully, Dart took a step aside, putting some distance between them. _Not who I really wanted to see at this moment. Skywarp isn't one of my favorite people-uh, mechanisms. _The Decepticon smiled over at her with a slight hint of mockery, and she turned her head, pretended to scan the road so she didn't have to give him any satisfaction over a response to that smirk. _Funny, how we get that instant dislike thing going no matter what no matter what species we are, sometimes. I think it's a universal thing. Dogs do it, humans do it, and look, giant metal robots from other planets do it. Oh well._

Using the flat of her grey hand to shade her optics from the glare off of the water, as she glanced down at the dock where the Decepticons had hooked long hoses to a drifting tanker. Sometime in the last few minutes Ravage had disappeared, and she wondered where he'd left to. The Constructicons were working on some aspect of the collection of oil; Buzzsaw and Lazerbeak wheeled overhead like giant metal vultures waiting for the ships to roll over on their rusting sides and die. Megatron and Starscream were off to one side. Starscream threw up his hands after gesturing back and forth with the Decepticon leader. He took to the air a second later.

"Are they almost done?" she finally brought herself to ask Skywarp.

"Nah, not even close. Besides, Megatron's not happy. The take's not as good as he thought it was going to be. Too bad you can't render humans into a usable fuel. There's enough of them around." Skywarp complained with a shake of his head. "Like mecha-rats."

There was a grating rumbling noise coming from somewhere, and she had to run a quick systems check on herself to see if she was growling. No, that wasn't her. Whew. Hooray for small favors.

"Hey, yeah... mecha-rats. They sure scoot pretty funny, though. Bet I could pick one off from here-" Rumble crowed, started to aim.

A second later he was dangling off the ground by the back of his neck. The gun fell away from his hands and clattered on the ground. Rumble let out a strangled yelp.

"Don't even think about it, you little cretin," Skywarp warned him, staring him straight in the optics. His feet dangled as he shook him once. "You shoot and give away our position and I'll personally rewind you in a way that you'll be spitting tape for a week. Got me?"

Threats were the only thing Rumble seemed to understand at times. Dart assumed it was one of those times.

"Uh, yeah. Gotcha."

Skywarp tossed the smaller transformer back down to the ground. Rumble clattered head over heels and then came to a stop in a patch of torn up grass. Groping around him, never taking his glare off of the black and purple mech, the transformed cassette finally snatched up his gun and massaged his neck with a scowl. Frenzy started to laugh at him, and Rumble tottered to his feet and took a swing at his brother. Frenzy ducked and laughed louder; this was followed by Rumble's full throated battle cry as he leapt straight for him, wrapped his arms around his waist and bore the other mech to the ground.

A robust dust cloud soon ensued, full of thrashing limbs and shrieked metallic curses. When it finally cleared enough to see the two combatants, Rumble was sitting on top of Frenzy, pinning him down with his knees, a manic grin lining his face as he lovingly slammed his brother's head into the ground.

"You like that? You like that, you manifold muncher?"

"Ow, get off of me!" howled Frenzy, squirming and kicking. His legs did nothing but flail uselessly at the air; it was like watching someone run in place while they were flat on their back. Or maybe it was more like Jazzercise - it was all the fad right now across the nation. Somewhere, someone really had to be thinking about the marketability of giant knitted legwarmers.

Rumble, meanwhile, had wrapped his fingers around his fellow tape-cassette's wrist, and was now hitting Frenzy in the face using his own hand.

"Wait until I get up!" Frenzy screeched, spitting out a mouthful of grass. "I'm gonna knock your block off."

"Stop hitting yourself!" Rumble cried in triumph as he pounded Frenzy's limbs against his nose with a heavy metallic thunk. "Ha ha! Stop hitting yourself!"

"Up your nose with a rubber hose!!" Frenzy screamed back.

Dart had to wonder just how she'd managed to step back in time into first grade recess.

"Would you two knock that off?!" Skywarp yelled so loud Dart's audios shorted out for a second. Wincing, she clapped her palm to the side of her head and edged aside. The mech's optics burned crimson as his shadow loomed over the two startled cassettes. "I can't even hear myself think with all that noise! And shut off those stupid noisemakers, Rumble! Now! Before I shut them off for you!"

There was a long pause where there was no sound at all. Dart gave a little, wistful sigh, though, since the uluation started to key on after less than thirty seconds. Ugh. The growling reverberation decided to nose back into her audio receptors, and the grinding nose made the back of her jaw quiver. After a few seconds, she cast an optic towards Skywarp, who was staring back out over the ocean below. Carefully, she cleared her throat and then edged slightly closer to the smaller mechs. Frenzy was getting up and dusting off his skidplate, and Rumble was glaring at Skywarp with angry indignation, wishing - not for the first time - that he was a bit taller. Yeah, if he was tall, Skywarp wouldn't dare talk to him like that, because if he did, Rumble would make him say uncle too...

Lost in the idea of punching Skywarp with his own purple fist, Rumble finally noticed Dart after she cleared her throat for the third time. "Wha-?"

"You better turn those things off before he catches you."

"Turn off what?"

"Uh, that thing you do. With the noise."

Rumble looked up at her, his optic band dimming in a confused blink. "But-"

"You want him to shake you again?"

"But... !"

"Uh, you're braver than I am, then. Tell you what, I'm just going to move over here, because that's out of his hand range, and–"

"Geeze, Dart, it's not on!" Rumble managed to say finally.

"What?" she asked. When both Frenzy and Rumble looked up at her and nodded in unison, she realized that he was actually telling the truth. "Oh. Sorry about that."

"I don't hear anything." Skywarp noted, interjecting himself into the conversation. "Maybe you ought to go on back to Screamer and have him readjust your audio."

Dart shrugged, ignoring the mech's underlaying note of sarcasm. She lifted her head and sniffed the air. Odd, it smelled like fuel and exhaust; however, it was very different. The only way she could think to describe it like was that it was sweeter and lighter than what the Decepicons smelled like. Tearing away from her sensors as if it was a tattered banner the scent followed the wind as it shifted. Even turning to thrust her nose back into the air currents didn't bring it back.

The rumble rose in volume and pitch, and she stared down at the section of road below the rise. "That's funny. I didn't think they allowed anything but tanker trucks up on this section of the road, according to the briefing."

Skywarp shook his head. "Probably humans running away, that's all."

Dart shaded her optics with a hand again, puzzled.

"I... weird. No, see, the dust? It's the wrong way, right? I think that they're approaching."

"Approaching?"

"I think so," she replied, using her finger to point. Skywarp now followed her gesture to where the vehicles rumbled toward them. Frowning, he stared down, then he jerked back and shoved past her with a furious look on his face.

"Autobots!" he yelled.

Having never seen one up close, Dart shaded her optics again. A flash of yellow caught her attention.

"Really? Seriously? A Volkswagen Autobot? Wow... um, that's actually a good way to blend in, down in Oregon... oh wait, hey, it's a Bug, though... Not a bus. Sorry."

"Megatron! Come in! We've got company!" Skywarp yelled into his communicator. There was a burst of static. "Blast! Someone's jamming my transmission!" He flung himself into the air. "Move it! We've got to warn the others!" Rumble and Frenzy followed him as he transformed, his engines burning a huge swatch out of the grass and shrubs in the area as he rocketed toward the other Decepticons.

"Cool! A fight!" Frenzy shrilled.

"Yeah... about time!"

It took her a few bumping seconds of processing for Dart's brain to catch up with the fact that she'd been left up here, and had no idea what to do now. She sidled over and used the bottom heel to grind out the last burning bit of brush, not wanting the fire to spread itself anywhere. Too many years of camping in the Dalles had drilled home the fact in her that Smokey the Bear would be upset if you left something to burn and didn't bother to put it out. _Remember, only you can prevent forest fires. _

Ravage appeared beside her, black frame bounding smoothly out of a patch of shadow. Startled by his abrupt appearance, Dart backed up a few steps, and held up a hand. Instantly, he cut her off, thrusting his body to the left side of her knee, herding her as if the cat had shifted modes into that of a working cattle dog about to take a nip at his charge to move it where he wanted it to go.

Amber optics shuttered, then met her own. "It's not just one Autobot. It is a convoy. Obviously, they were expecting us to move on this opportunity. I should have been more forthcoming with my personal concerns on the maneuver," he sighed. She nodded, having no idea what he was talking about, but guessing that he was looking right now for her to agree with him. Obviously, that was a good guess, because he nodded and turned smoothly in place, grass curvetting out from underneath his metal paws. "Ah well. Down to the beach. Up here, you're a target, and a fairly obvious one."

It hadn't occurred to her, that thought.

"Come on," he ordered. "Move, now."

Running from here made sense, more than anything else right now. She took one step, two, and bolted off , racing towards where the other Decepticons still harvested the tanker's bounty.

* * *

Starscream looked up from where he leaned against the side of the tanker. Skywarp's sudden entrance had caught his attention. _Wonder what made him teleport in like that. He knows that he's asking to get shot one of these days . . . _

With a spattering spray of sand that rattled against the plating on his legs as if it was machine gun fire, a black and grey blur of motion skidded to a stop in front of him. His null-rifle came up, landed square center with a lavender Decepticon sigil. With an angry grunt, he started to snarl at Skywarp for choosing to teleport in front of him, the idiot was always doing that... but instead, his sullen optics took in Dart. Obviously worried, she backed up a step and carried herself out of line with his gun; fidgeted in place as if she was a high-strung racehorse on the end of a short lead shank. The sweep of her ponytail caught the light as she nervously looked from side to side.

"What are you doing down here!?" he shrilled. "I told you to stay up above!"

"Ravage said -" she replied, air whistling in and out of her intakes as she drew it into her cooling systems.

He held up a hand, thrusting his palm into her face as if he were a policeman at a very bad intersection with copious amounts of cross traffic. "Ravage doesn't give you your orders. I do," he told her, once again choosing to completely overlook the fact that in all honesty, it was Megatron who gave out orders. Well, of course, that didn't apply to him, and well, since she was his experiment, it didn't apply to her either. "And if I recall correctly, the orders I gave you were to stay up on that hill."

Dart sighed and rocked back on her heels as she tried to peer around the flat of his hand. "I know, I know you did, sorry, but everyone left me when the Autobots showed up, and–"

"I don't care if they leave you, you stay where I _tell _you to stay. Do you understand me at all? I swear, sometimes, you are truly about as thick as... wait, Autobots?"

She nodded up and down, glad to find something in the conversation that was not about her inability to sit and stay.

"Autobots, and Ravage said that the communications links are being jammed, er - he told me to tell you, and he went to go tell Megatron, or something like that. I missed some of what he said, the wind noise rattling around my head sort of makes it sound like I'm sitting in a tunnel during rush hour traffic with the Jeep's top down, you know?"

"No, I don't know," he muttered.

"Oh. Er, yeah, I guess you wouldn't, and-"

Her optics seemed to widen, and he jerked his head in time to witness the first shot as it ripped open the tanker's weakened side with a powerful fireball. The second explosion sent Skywarp spinning crazily into the shallows. He came up a second later, seawater pouring out of his mouth as he crawled to the shore, wing struts broken and his back smoking.

Over the din, someone's voice rang out.

"Autobots! Flank them! Now! Hold the perimeter, get the humans to safety."

Megatron's answer to Optimus Prime's direct order was to send three or four shots barreling into the Autobots that were hastening to obey. "Soundwave! Are the transmission frequencies open yet?"

"Almost. There. Communications open." Soundwave replied. Megatron nodded and kept blasting as the Autobots scattered, cars and robots hastening to get out of range of his weapon.

"Decepticons! To the air and attack!"

Starscream was already folding up into his F-15 mode, and with a roar from his engines, he blasted into the air.

Dart had heard the order over the com-link, and standing on the sand, she stared around wildly, unsure exactly what she was supposed to do now. Laser fire strafed overhead, the squeals of breaks and mechanical rasps of transformation echoed everywhere, bouncing off concrete and tanker, echoing hollows that seemed to be pressing in from every direction. Completely disorientated in which way to run, she stared up and down the beach, back the way she came, and finally decided that was the best way to head.

_Hope Megatron doesn't blast me for disobeying orders too, I'm batting a thousand right now, but better to be blasted afterwards instead of right now. Sure. That makes a lot of sense, Dart. Here goes nothing. _She pushed off with a foot, spun and sprinted back the way she had come from. Five steps into it, the sonic boom of the start of her sprint bounced back from the tanker. The Constructicons weren't in the air either, she noticed as she flashed by. They were assembling into a group robot; amazed at the sheer size of it, she pulled in a sharp suck of air. Staring at that monstrosity of lime green paint and purple accents, she nearly didn't register that the ground had suddenly exploded into a smoking crater the size of the Volkswagen she'd been eyeing earlier, and it had done so directly in front of her feet.

Luckily, her body decided that it might be wise to take over for her brain while it sat back and blinked stupidly at the fact there was now a big hole rapidly approaching.

A snort of effort exploded out of her chest; lunging off the ground, Dart tucked one leg nearly up to her chest, hurtled the gap to land on the opposite side and continued running.

She managed to avoid another blast that followed the first in rapid succession. Obviously, someone else couldn't believe they'd missed dropping her into the hole either. Plowing her heels into the beach, she sent up a swath of dirt like a sharply reined in cowpony, and jigged four steps to the side, frantically trying to figure out what to do now before whoever was taking potshots at her got tired of the dash and avoid and just decided to carpet bomb the entire area.

Once again, with elegant timing, Ravage seemed to appear out of nowhere in a bounding blur of ebon metal. One of the bombs normally anchored to his side was missing; the loss of the weapon made him seem lopsided, but he himself moved as if nothing was amiss, hind paws actually landing in front of his forefeet as he gathered himself for another leaping stride. "Transform!" he called out, his normally quiet voice straining to be heard over the reverberating booms and whistles of payloads being discharged at close proximity. "Follow me! Now!"

Dart understood as the jets shrieked overhead and blazed a fiery trail along the ground, ripping up the sand in great red-hot plumes. The tanker was now on fire, and the acrid smell of burning oil made her paw at her face and gag. She took a nervous sidestep again, and tossed her head, a frightened filly trapped in the middle of a burning barn.

"Now!" Ravage ordered again, and she dropped and ducked herself into her transformation.

The low-slung black car with the lightning bolt across the hood now sat on all four tires, engine revving higher and higher. Ravage leapt forward to land on the roof of her vehicle mode. Quickly, he activated the magnetic fields on the bottom of his paws, adhered himself firmly to the top of the Trans-Am. "Go!"

Her tires spat sand as she jerked forward, back end struggling for purchase over the slick surface beneath her. The car's front end plowed into a ridge of sand and gravel twice, sharp rocks ripped off deep scratches of black paint from her bumper, and pinged off of the blue and yellow licence plate. Two of them struck her windshield, the car flinched and nearly went out of control. It took her two weaving meters to regain herself, and she nearly ended up spinning out and flipping over, a remarkable achievement for a sports car designed with a low center of gravity just for combating that sort of accident from happening.

_Ahhh... crud, crud, ack... okay, Trans-Am, Trans-Am, stupid sports car, not Jeep! Okay, the Jeep was there, why didn't he use that?!! _

Ravage clung easily to the top of the car, thrusting his nose over her windshield, mouth agape, as if he were a gargoyle ready to do service as a church's down-spout. Roaring forward, her engine lifters rattled as she fled down the beach and headed back towards the hill. Dead End flashed by them in a burst of gold, being chased by a white and blue Porsche blaring music so loud it made both her and Ravage shiver and wince. The Stunticon abruptly noticed the black car, and it dodged a bit across the sand; with a shriek of wet brakes, it swerved, throwing sand in a harsh fishtail all across her windshield as it cut right in front of her.

Yelping as her vision was abruptly filled with the not so pleasing view of Dead End's tailpipe, Dart veered off. Her own drum brakes squealed and howled as she slammed on them. Because the Trans-Am only cleared even ground by under ten inches, the car was nearly useless on uneven ground. Her licence plate struck sparks off the rocks beneath it; there was the rusty hinge sound of it bending in half and tearing one more chunk out of her bumper. Dead End revved his engine, shot forward with a new volley of speed and was gone, wide tires spraying sand behind him as he hurtled down the beach. The white and blue car slid to a stop, fish-tailing as one target disappeared and another appeared.

It was an old trick, a good trick. Throw off your enemy by offering him something else to target, and let him chase something else for a while, not you.

Dart couldn't quite appreciate the logic behind it, though. Her tires spat up chunks of wet mud as she dug through the sand and well-worn beach rocks, trying to break her hood free of four inches of sucking, muddy morass. Seaweed wrapped around her axle, the bulbous end of the kelp strand slamming into her undercarriage with each spin of her tires. She started to transform, but right then, the blue and white Porsche seemed to decide that well, hey, might as well take advantage of the fact that his new target appeared to be in need of some serious driving lessons.

The spoiler on the back end of the car split; two gold-colored speaker-looking things appeared from what was seemingly thin air, aimed towards her nose.

Oh great. First bombs. Now some super weapon that was crackling with eagerness to blow off a chunk out of her hood.

Whatever passed for robotic adrenaline surged through her lines, and Dart wrenched backwards, the front of the Trans-Am rearing out of the sand as the car managed to throw herself nearly perpendicular to the sky , resting fully on her back tires. Ravage stayed put; barely moving as he rode out the situation, unflappable as a steel rodeo cowboy.

Unable to deal with the sudden torque and pressure caused by both front tires finding no resistance, the strand of bull kelp now twined through Dart's spring insulator assembly chose that moment to snap off. The round fibrous end whipped through the air, became a half-rotten algae bolo right before it whizzed directly into the center of the Porsche's windshield. The bulb exploded across that curve of glass just as the courier crashed back down to all four tires.

Yellow, half rotted goo oozed slowly down, meandered in foul, slug-slime trails onto the Porsche's white paint.

Silence, utter silence, as the Trans-Am's headlights popped open in a mechanical display of dawning mortification. Even though this other car was supposedly the enemy, no one deserved to be hit in the face by decomposing bull kelp. No one. Honest. Her first impulse was to apologize profusely; her voice was cut off when a breeze pushed the putrid smell right into her intakes. She couldn't help it, she let out a tiny choking cough.

The Porsche sat and then slowly, a windshield wiper slipped out from underneath his hood edge. It swiped across the mess, smeared it back and forth until it managed to scrub off one clean swath.

"Oh, not cool," it said.

Dart's headlights shuttered in a blink.

_Okay, that's weird. This guy kind of sounds like Henry, the mild mannered janitor on Hong Kong Phooey. I need to talk to Starscream about fixing my audio as soon as possible. _

"On the contrary," Ravage interjected softly with a purring hiss. "I thought it was truly magnificent."

The Porsche's engine gunned, and the speakers swung in line with the cat.

Dart decided without any extra goading that now would be a great time to hurry up and leave. The Trans-Am shot out down the beach, trying to figure out the smoothest path up to where she could get onto the paved road.

Instantly, the Porsche shot after them, gaining ground with each meter.

"He's after us!" Dart yelped, accelerating to keep ahead of it.

Ravage clung easily to her roof, turned his head to calmly assess the situation. "Try and outmaneuver him. There. The pylons." The jaguar ducked his chin against his chest, sniffed at the air rushing past them. "Another! Turn now!"

A police car swerved out from under a dock, lights scintillating blue and red. Ingrained with years of any flashing light meaning you pulled over now or got a very nasty ticket from a tired Oregonian cop, Dart braked again, slid ten feet before she could regain traction. A buried bottle ricocheted upward and shattered against her air dam. With an easy turn of tires, the police car missed scraping along her flank by well-calculated inches, spooked her into a veer to frantically to avoid the accident. She nearly wrapped herself around a huge, concrete pylon, and while she was slamming down her brakes to avoid that, the Porsche closed easily on her other side, pinning her between the two cars. Ravage snarled at it, took a precarious swipe with a paw. He managed to contact the Porsche's flank, and left deep, terrible grooves along the car's white metal; paint curlicued off and drifted away from the moving vehicle.

"Hey! Bad kitty!" the Porsche admonished, swerving aside.

"Close in on him, Jazz." the police car ordered. "Watch Ravage's claws, though, or you'll be a convertible."

"Reading you loud and clear, Prowl!" Jazz replied.

Cautiously, the police car closed in and nudged her rear quarter panel with his hood, a carefully controlled bump that edged her into the Porsche's left side. She started to hydroplane, and actually offered up a quick prayer that she wouldn't wipe out into one of the concrete beams holding up what was left of the docks. Er, not that it ever seemed to work. Ravage's paws locked down over the grooves of her roof and he snarled viciously, exposing gleaming metal fangs. The music was blaring so loud she couldn't concentrate that well, it throbbed and slammed off of the inside of her head. It felt like the rivets holding whatever passed for her brain were shearing away. _Flight of the Valkyries_? she wondered as she finally placed the song.

"Ravage! I can't shake them!"

"Go under the docks!" Ravage growled, leaning over to take another swipe at Jazz.

She obeyed instantly, the low sleek sports car diving underneath the docks. Instantly, she was enveloped in fish-smelling darkness. Headlights shone; the two Autobots hadn't been even slightly surprised with this attempt and were still herding her down, one on either side of her, as if they were dogs snapping at the heels of a reluctant calf.

Ravage's voice drifted over her private communications-link.

"_When you get out from under here, transform. Run. Leave them behind you, courier."_

"What about you?" she said, hearing her voice echo hollowly around her interior. She still hadn't got the hang of switching over to thought instead of talking out loud.

He laughed softly. "The darkness and I are old companions." She felt him tense. "Be ready!"

She felt him spring off of her as she shot back into the light. The two cars were still in hot pursuit. "Bearing two-four one, Jazz," ordered the police car. "Get ready to–"

Spurred on by the two other cars, Dart forgot about thinking about how she was supposed to transform. She forgot her implausibility of wondering where all the extra pieces of her actually went. Actually, she sort of forgot about most everything except that she didn't want to end up dead.

Prowl plowed to a stop with his front bumper resting in the sand as Jazz nearly rammed into him. The two Autobots transformed and stood as their quarry hurtled away down the beach, heading back toward where the tanker burned. The sonic boom echoed back a moment later, making two sets of doors vibrate as the metal protested the force of the sound.

"Whoa." Jazz said, letting his photon rifle point barrel down to the ground as he shaded his optic visor. "That was... different. Did that guy just up and run out of here? Seriously?"

Prowl inclined his head, a thoughtful look in his sky blue optics. Slowly, he stepped forward and knelt, putting his left hand lightly into the tire tracks , then rose to his feet and paced off the length from the furrow in the sand to the first step, then the second. Jazz could almost see the gears in his companion's head turning as he studied the clues left behind in the scuffled sand. Far off down the beach, the whine of a rocket impacting with shoreline sent up a huge cloud of greasy smoke. The wind blowing past both of the Autobots turned rank and foul with the odor of scorched seaweed.

Jazz made a face, and hoped that he didn't smell like that. Whoo boy, if he did? He was going to insist that he get some paid leave time to go soak it out of his plating. Wait, he didn't get paid, but hmm. Okay, he'd go back, insist that he get a salary, and then proceed to take paid leave time. Yeah, and he'd make Prime throw some Fat Burger tapes in for good measure, too.

Prowl didn't seem to take any notice of the smell. Still intently perusing the ground, he hitched his rifle up and held it loosely between his black fingers, barrel pointed earthward. One toe pushed quietly at the ridge of rock and sand, gently tamped it back down into place to protect the exposed, frightened crabs and assorted sea-life now frantically scrabbling to find cover.

"I expected him to take to the air," he murmured.

"Well, hey, even _you_ can't guess 'em all." Jazz grinned, chortling as he slapped the tactician on the back. Prowl offered him a pained, long-suffering look in response to the joke; his head tilted, and he ignored the rest of the other mech's hooting delight to stare down the beach. Over his optics, the red chevron seemed to draw his features into a frown, but then he merely shrugged and transformed, heading back down the beach toward the battle.

* * *

Megatron snarled and took a bead on the Autobot leader's back for the third time. This time, Skywarp and Sideswipe tumbled into his sights, the red Autobot punching the black Decepticon for all he was worth. Megatron debated on taking the shot anyway, but then his attention was drawn to where the Constructicons tumbled apart into the ocean, knocked clean off of the end of the dock by Prime's rifle. He heard something hit the ground beside him, and whirled, his massive fist coming up. Starscream threw up his hands to ward off the blow he thought was going to land. 

"Megatron!"

"What is it?" Megatron snarled as he turned slightly and allowed his blast to scorch over Starscream's twitching shoulder. The shot took a chunk out of the dock. In the now abandoned harbor, he tanker continued to list on its side, quivering from stem to stern as if it were a bloated carcass waiting for the crocodiles to come and feed on its remains. The smell of spilled fuel was overpowering; it hung misty and thick over the battle-tossed harbor, slicked rainbow colored whorls on top of the greenish ocean. It was amazing that the whole area hadn't caught on fire between the vapors and explosions.

"Soundwave suggests an evaluation of our status."

"I didn't ask for a suggestion, did I?" Megatron glared at him. Starscream's optics narrowed.

"I didn't offer one," he said in that superior, haughty tone that made the Decepticon leader tense. Starscream suddenly looked thoughtful, tapping his chin with his fingertip. It made a metallic clicking noise that Megatron could hear clearly over the din of the battle. Megatron's mouth plates grated against each other as Starscream spoke again. "Of course, if I was _going_ to offer one it would be to tell you that your leadership skills seem once again to be lacking. They're winning."

Megatron let out a roar and started to turn on the air commander. Then a flicker of motion caught his eye and a slow smile spread across the Decepticon leader's face. Normally, if he'd wanted to hear someone scream in a non-stop female sort of fashion, he would have nailed Starscream to a wall. However, that opportunity wasn't as forthcoming as this one at the moment. Maybe later.

"Perhaps we can turn things to our advantage, Starscream."

The air commander made a snorting noise of utter contempt and crossed his arms.

"I fail to see what -"

With a crackle, the comm burst into Dart's audios as if she had shoved the side of her head into a recently poured bowl of breakfast cereal.

"_Well, courier? Don't stand there like a fool. Attack!" _

Starscream's head snapped around. "Dart? But she has no long range weaponry, Megatron. I didn't design her for that sort of operation."

Megatron smiled at him coldly. "Really? Hmm. Obviously my direction to her must stem from my faulty leadership skills. Now, here's my suggestion to you, Starscream. Perhaps you should consider your words more carefully next time." Megatron offered as he re-sighted down the cannon, trying to get another shot in at Prime.

Starscream hissed, and shoved off into the air, the blue-white flare of his jets casting an eerie light over Megatron's laughing visage.

_He wants me to what?_

At first, Dart thought she hadn't heard him right. Confused, she came to a halt, shifting her weight back and forth, rocking from one foot to the other. The battle raged farther away, drawn down the beach; Autobots and Decepticons now battled on the ground with fists and tighter range weapons. Skywarp struggled with a red Autobot that was punching the heck out of him-she wondered if his cracking armor would take much more of the punishment. She took a step forward._ He can't have meant me. I wouldn't have a chance in that mess. _She stopped, hesitating, and glanced back over her shoulder.

Megatron threw out his hand and pointed at her. No mistaking that for anything else, sorry.

_Oh, he does mean me. Crud, crud, crud..._ She whined softly to herself._ Well, if I don't, he'll blast my head off. I spent all this time getting out of the way for nothing. Moral of story, next time you decide to be helpful, don't! _

She kicked off, sprinted forward, felt her speed build as she shot down the beach toward the fray. Skywarp was underneath his tormenter now, and the Autobot was grinning as he wrapped his hands around the Decepticon's throat and proceeded to bash his opponent's head into a shattered concrete beam.

Sideswipe looked up in time to see something whisk past him. It cuffed the side of his shoulder, and he jerked his head around, wondering what had thumped him like that. Sunstreaker? He better not have been doing that, he'd pinned Skywarp down fair and square, this was all his fun. Jet judo was great and all, but hey, a Decepticon flat on his back was simply begging to be punched in the head, and... nope, not Sunstreaker. He was over there, attempting to pull off Thundercracker's left wing.

"What the -" he began to say, but whatever had slapped him was already gone. Taking advantage of his momentarily slack fingers, Skywarp lunged up and slammed his knuckles hard into the red Autobot's chin.

Sideswipe grunted. A thin trickle of fuel spilled out of the corner of his lips, but he cheerfully grinned through it and clenched his fist to punch Skywarp in the nicest effort to return the favor.

_That was easier than I thought. Maybe I'll get out of this alive after all, _Dart thought as she picked her next target, another red Autobot. This one was spraying something from a wrist nozzle that made the sand gleam like glass as she sprinted toward him. Her idea was a simple one - dodge in, slap with the flat of a hand, and hopefully cause enough distraction for someone else to leap into the fray. Other than that? Not a clue. _Neat, and you blew off that self defense class back on campus for movie night. See, it did come back to haunt you, huh? But no, you just had to find out what happened to Luke Skywalker. _

Man, where were the Ewoks when you needed them at times like this? Hmm. Hey, you know, thinking about the whole battle of Endor? Maybe rocks really would take out giant robots with one well placed hit. Something to remember for next time, she supposed. Okay, why did thoughts like this always pop up at the stupidest times, like when you were charging something that revealed itself to be pretty much a large cinder brick with legs?

Ironhide, finishing up his impromptu patch job on the section of beach, glanced up in time to see something dark racing over the ground towards him. At first, he assumed that it was a shadow, flickering downward from a Decepticon screaming its way over the area to strafe him with covering fire. Twisting from the hip, he swung his arm around to aim upwards at the sky, bracing his elbow with his right hand to steady his aim. ."So you wanna -"

Huh? The sky was empty? Then where---

Dart's foot hit the edge of the patch.

_It is glass! No, ice! Yipe!_

Her stride completely broken, she lost control of her run. Desperately, she tried to yank herself left, but the lack of purchase on the slippery, smooth ground below her sent her the opposite way. A vast expanse of red chestplate loomed right in front of her vision. She barely had time to drop her chin to her chest in an effort to keep from smashing face first into it. Ironhide somehow managed to swing up his arm between him and the black robot before it collided into him. There was the crunch of collapsing metal; a bark of air echoed, driven out of cooling systems with the force of someone being pummeled in the ribs with a metal baseball bat. Ironhide's legs locked, but even his stalwart weight couldn't compensate for the velocity of the impact.

He fell over backwards, skidded along the patch of ice. His elbow slammed down; the full weight of his body smashed a spiderweb into the ground below him. A loud crack met his audios - _hope that ain't anything important,_ he thought, before he realized it was the brittle bone-snap of the ice breaking beneath him. Face down, then face up, he caught a glimpse of the Decepticon. It was tumbling nose over skidplate, lanky limbs flying in ways that a yoga-master might have been jealous of. Either that or it was experiencing of those rides at the fairground that caused cotton candy to find its way back up the throat.

Ironhide flung out his hand, dug his fingers down. Finding sand instead of ice, he managed to punch his fingers deep into the wet beach-shore, halting his momentum.

The black robot wasn't quite that adroit at recovering from this sort of two car accident. It flipped a few more times towards the water. Finally, the strip of metal across its narrow shoulders caught on a half buried chunk of driftwood, and it came to rest face down, nose buried into a mass of kelp and beach trash, stilling into an awkward, crumpled heap.

Ironhide raised his head, and then sat up and shook off the blow, spitting sand. He closed his jaw, worked his mouth, and finally opened it again, hooking his finger to pull out a rock that had somehow wedged itself inside. Holding it between his thumb and forefinger, he studied it for a second before he flicked it towards his fallen foe with a lopsided grin.

It bounced off the flat crest of the Decepticon's helmet with a satisfying bonk.

"Bet that hurt," Ironhide drawled.

A few seconds passed before the flattened Decepticon groaned painfully and started to struggle against the forces of gravity holding it face down on the beach. It collapsed back to the shore before it even got a leg underneath itself. A low, canine whining noise stuttered from somewhere deep in its chest.

Ironhide chuckled, flexed his arm to make sure nothing was broken, and rolled himself to his feet.

"Well, that'll teach you to -"

The robot raised her head. He stepped back a pace as she coughed, choked, and finally managed to spit out a faded Rainier pull-top can from her mouth. Slowly, crawling onto her hands and knees, she gathered her legs under her to rise painfully upright. It took her about three tries to finally manage this stance, and she stood, spread-eagled, her knees locked and trembling. Across her shoulders, the tips of her spoiler peeked over as she dazedly stared left, then right, examining the beach.

Maybe she was trying to find the bus that had hit her. Oh wait, he was right there. Hi bus.

"Whoa," Ironhide said as he held up his hands, his southern drawl stretching out in his surprise. "Okay, where did you come from?"

_What the heck - guess the Decepticreeps have had enough power to use that blasted Space Bridge recently... great, just what we need, more reinforcements on their end of things. Wonder what she... she? Wait, is that a girl? _

It had taken the old Autobot a few turns of his neural processor to comprehend who -or what- he was looking at in front of him. Mostly because when he thought about girls he sort of tended to focus his personal memories on lovely curvy chestplates and flared hips. This one didn't have much in the ways of either of those two attributes. Ironhide regarded her quickly again, his optics skimming over her frame. Not because he had any personal interest in staring at her plating; but since it had been so long since he'd seen a female Cybertronian that he needed to make sure he could tell the difference between a girl and some poor guy who'd been on the receiving end of the mother-load of a cheap back alley rebuild down in the Cybertronian slums.

Oh, ho. Was a girl. The very thought cheered him as he congratulated himself on not being as old as half the crew seemed to think he was.

The girl's optics dimmed farther, brightened in a blink. She opened her mouth, closed it for a second, winced, and then shifted her weight uncomfortably over her left hip.

"West Linn," she said, in a hoarse wheezing croak, still fighting to regulate the air back into her cooling systems.

Not expecting an actual answer, Ironhide inclined his head and took a step towards her. "Huh, really?"

The Decepticon's eyes seemed to widen. She staggered back a stride, and her foot sunk into the ocean up to her ankle, sending up a spray of surf.

"Whoa there, missy..." he offered, stretching out an arm towards her, gesturing her to stop.

Instantly, the Decepticon's throat vibrated out a low growl, and she lowered her head. It almost sounded like a turbo-hound behind a gate. It wasn't a nice sound; it was the sort of sound that usually accompanied large metal teeth fastened into bad places a few moments later.

He'd forgotten to slide the nozzle back and replace it with his hand.

"Aw, shoot, wait–"

On hearing that second word, and realizing the weapon was pointed directly at her chest, Dart didn't wait for him to finish the sentence. Her hands came up, tension knotted through her frame and her spoiler peeked over her shoulders again, stiff as rising hackles. Her optics were focused on a point behind his shoulder, and then she lunged forward, lowering her head as she started to bolt past him.

Ironhide reflexively grabbed for her shoulder as the lean girl kicked off the sand, ducked her head as if she was bent to a bit and plunged past him. On his non-nozzled hand, fingers stretched and closed over the narrow curve of black metal. Caught in mid-stride, the girl's head whipped around, her nose passing inches from his wrist. Ironhide's audios heard a popping click; it was with surprise that the red mech realized that the girl was trying to bite him - her mouthplates had slammed together inches from his fingers.

In surprise at nearly having his knuckles gnawed on, the red mech shifted his grip on the Decepticon and tried to stiff-arm her away. Her response came with a whistling kick that flashed past his kneecap, then she flailed and struck his shoulder with a fist. When the only thing that did was make him laugh and cause her to hurt the side of her hand, she shifted tactics and clawed her fingers towards his optics, missing by wide meters.

Ironhide stepped back from her, locked his elbow and easily held her out at arm's length. The girl tried running past again, he set his heels and let her motion pivot him around in a circle. The two of them spun up chunks of wet mud and sand; she'd dug a nice moat around him before she wrenched herself backward and came to a stop, her sides heaving.

"Gonna hurt yourself doing that," he told her.

She stared wildly at him, and then her left arm came up and extended as she threw a closed-fist punch straight at the bridge of his nose.

Ironhide was built to take punches from mechs better built to throw them, but even he didn't like it when hands started getting close up and personal in his facial space. He'd calculated the she-bot's reach, though, and he pulled his shoulders back to save himself any further abuse.

_Click._

At first, he thought she'd taken another snap at him.

Then, his optics focused on a length of sharp metal that had appeared from the girl's wrist and was now diving straight at the point between. Years of fighting on the front lines down in Iacon took over, and the red mech instantly let go of her and threw up his arm between them to ward off the blow. The knife skittered off of his hard armor and she yelped and sprang back, shaking her wrist before she spun on her heel and bolted, heading back up the beach.

Ironhide stood, staring after her. Then Thundercracker's dive shattered the sky above him and he turned his attention back on survival.

* * *

_Ow, ow, ow...what was that thing made out of anyway? Bricks? That hurt. _Her shoulder was crumpled and leaking slightly from where they'd collided, but system wise she seemed to be okay. She stood there, trying to get her bearings. _Now where am I-and how can I get out of here without running into –?_

The police car shot out from behind the wreckage of the dock, transformed into a black and white mech that flared a set of doors behind his shoulders. For the briefest moment, their gazes met. Blue optics, half shadowed in the slant of his red and white chevron were thoughtfully calm, and his chin dipped in a nod; he didn't seem to be at all surprised that she was right in front of him. The barrel of his weapon came up; she leapt to the side, elbows pumping frantically as she swerved back and forth, bounding down the beach.

Barely moving, only shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he tracked her path easily. Carefully, he set his index finger against the perfectly calibrated trigger, and pulled smoothly back on it. The tab of metal clicked against the guard as a burst of yellow fire erupted from the tip.

Stretched out in mid stride, Dart nearly crashed to the ground as something slammed into her knee. At first it wasn't bad; she thought she'd kicked up a rock, or struck a chunk of driftwood. It had only sent her off balance, she was able to take two more strides, touched her fingers to the ground to keep going. Her nose caught a bitter whiff of smell, which her mind instantly correlated to the scent to etching solution; she blew a snort of air out of her intakes, went to inhale another gulp and keep running...

Pain slammed hundreds of sharp claws into the joint. It nearly overloaded her neural circuits; the courier staggered one more drunken stride before she was forced to halt, and her hands automatically went to her knee. Her fingers clenched around the joint, trying to lift up and support at the same time, her toe dragged uselessly behind her.

Prowl stood quietly, watched the Decepticon spin in a circle on her good leg.

Footsteps thudded into the beach off to his left, but he only slid one optic to verify that his assessment of who was coming to join him was who he thought it was, and not an intruding Decepticon.

Jazz slid to a stop in a rattle of beach rock, his photon rifle twirling around the end of his finger twice before he snapped it back into his palm with the flare and style of a robotic gunslinger. "Hey! You hit him!"

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I hit _her_."

Jazz's optic visor brightened, dimmed, as the mech blinked. Then he pursed his lips; a whistling noise drifted past them as the tip of his photon rifle wavered toward the ground.

"No kidding."

Prowl's optics surveyed the situation.

His hit had struck exactly as planned. He'd only had a short time to study the runner as it hurtled down the beach; but the tactician was amazingly analytical. The distance between strides, the deep tears in the ground he'd surveyed earlier, how far the sand hand scattered back... all of those things, he had taken into account. Prowl was a detective of motion and situations - his processor was able to take in all the information and feed it back to him, giving him his most logical path to take. What it had told him this time was that the sprinter was incredibly dependent on those legs working as perfectly as possible.

It was a vital point, and one he easily exploited.

Silently, he watched the girl as staggered forward a step. A whining yelp escaped her as she pulled her weight off the injured limb and stood, head hanging down, chin nearly touching her throat guard as her chest heaved. Even from this distance, Prowl could hear the heavy pull of her intakes. Likely, her self repair would kick in soon, he'd have to move quickly. Normally, he would have turned and squeezed off another shot at her, to throw her offline, but something bothered him, stopped him from doing so. Ah, that was it. Observing her, judging her weight by how deep her prints had set and the lack of heavy armor, he considered the risk too great that he might strike something integral to her systems. Prowl would defend himself fully from attack; however, he would also attempt everything in his power to not accidently kill; even a Decepticon.

_Without the use of that leg, she won't be dashing fast anywhere soon. We should be able to capture her easily. There's that empty cell in detention bay... that will hold her. _"Jazz. We're going to bring her in. Flank her on the left, I'll be on the other side. It should be simple to get binders on her."

"What are you, crazy? She can outrun the two of us like we were standing still!"

"Not now she can't," he repeated. The other Autobot gave him a look, then shrugged and nodded as Prowl took a step forward, and lifted his gun, held it steady. The black and grey robot rocked back, dropping all of the weight onto her heel as she rolled her optics, staring one way, then the other down the beach. Her spoiler rattled, lifted over her shoulders, and started to flatten back again as she concentrated on a point in the distance. "Don't run," Prowl called calmly back to her. "Stand still, put your hands out straight."

The girl's attention immediately focused back on him.

Okay, this was a bad day. Even minus the fact that there was a giant robot battle of epic proportions going around, it was still a bad day._ Great. I bet they don't have any giant robot hotlines to complain about excessive use of force. Then again, I don't know what exactly excessive force might consist of right now, but... okay, wait, I'd qualify being shot dead as excessive force. Maybe he'll pull out the rubber bullets and beanbag gun.._

Something damp oozed down the side of her calf, and she didn't dare look down, afraid of what she might see. _No, I don't think so. Oh... this really, really, really hurts... please, let it be fixable, please, please..._

"Let me guess," she said, as her spoiler came up over her shoulders with a defiant, almost flippant flick of motion. "If I run, you'll shoot me again."

"Nah, nah. We might toss some sea snot right back at you, though," Jazz chuckled.

Across her thin shoulders, the strip of metal rattled out its confusion.

Once again, Jazz chalked up the girl's lack of response to the fact that Decepticons had no sense of humor. Well, okay, maybe they did when dropping large amounts of munitions to watch the boom, but that was about it. Most of them were about as subtle as two warheads banging together.

Prowl's focus was completely on the girl; the slight rock of her hip, the turn of flank as she dotted her toe down on the beach below her. Instantly, he made a tiny motion with the tip of his rifle. He still didn't aim at her center of mass, no... the tip of his rifle was perfectly in line with one spot.

"I'd rather not shoot you, no. However, in case, if you are thinking about running, I do have a targeting lock on your uninjured knee."

Dart's optics followed the line of the gun. She rocked back slightly, and a tiny growl dribbled out of the corner of her lips as she drew back from him.

Jazz turned briefly to look at Prowl.

"Dude... you really need to work on this whole 'good cop bad cop' thing."

"Hmm? And what was that all about? Sea snot?"

"Yeah. You know, those rotten chunks of beach crud."

"Rotten beach crud?" Prowl wondered out loud, inclining his head to accentuate his words. His chevron drew a quizzical line over his brow until Jazz jerked his free thumb towards his back to point out the yellow, drying stain there. "Oh. Organic decomposing vegetation, ahh, I see what you mean."

He didn't, but that was all right. Prowl had learned from long, long experience that if he acted like he perhaps did, the less mechs attempted to explain things to him. In length. For hours, as if that would make a difference. Prowl loved a good debate, but he often struggled to pick through all the human references and culture. On one note, he was getting better, he did now know what a Rubik's cube was... and could solve it in seconds, no matter how jumbled it was. That bit of popular human culture, he admired for its sheer logic. There were patterns in everything, once you surveyed things close enough. Eyeing the girl, he slowly moved forward, one step at a time.

"You ever see that television show, Partners in Crime?" Jazz asked him, after a few more strides.

"No. However, I'll assume, looking back at your original comment that it had a good cop and a bad cop. That is the point of bringing up the televison show, correct?" Prowl replied. "Now, split off. Pin her up between us."

Jazz nodded and started to walk wide, circling around the girl. "Well, yeah. But they cancelled it after what, three whole months? Didn't even give it a chance, bam, sent it right to the scrapheap. How can you go wrong with Lynda Carter and Loni Anderson?"

"Who?"

"Wonder Woman, man. The lady who played Wonder Woman."

Prowl sighed. "What _is _the point you're trying to make? Wait. Do you even have a point that pertains to the situation at hand?"

"Yeah. You're a stiff," Jazz replied, with a disarming grin. "And that she-bot there probably wants to make you into one, given the chance. Her not running off is the least worry in my brain, sorry. Mine's on that she probably has a gun stashed around somewhere."

"Not likely. She would have pulled it out and shot by now if she did."

"Well, maybe she's a lousy shot or something, and wants us to get closer. All right. You want me to come in on this side and, hello, okay, she's got a knife!"

"I thought she might have some weapons capabilities, but I assumed they would be self-limited."

"You thought so? Why didn't you tell me you thought so?"

"She can't strike out fully at you without using her leg for momentum, step back."

Jazz snorted, but it sounded suspiciously like a chuckle as he easily danced back out of range. The girl took another swing at him, but Prowl had been absolutely correct. Since she couldn't move or step to lunge, she only had an arm's length to swing the weapon. She did so without finesse or poise, merely swiping it through the air as if to throw up a sharp barrier between them. "Well, she sure as heck seems to think she can. Hey, lady? You might want to listen to my buddy here. He says knifing me in the gut is bad."

"I said no such thing," Prowl replied.

Jazz canted his head slightly to the side.

"But yes, it would be bad."

"Prowl, my man, you did so not say that with a straight face."

"Put away the weapon," Prowl ordered the Decepticon, completely focused in on her, so much so that Jazz's remark went un-noticed. "Then drop. Face down, hands behind your back," he told her as he opened a compartment below his wrist and shook a set of metal binders into his hand. The device was simple and straightforward; when clamped over a mech's wrists, they locked down until they were released with a the correct code, issued only from the mech that had put them on there in the first place.

Immediately, the girl whipped her head around to stare at Prowl's hand; the low growl from behind her clenched lips became high-pitched and hysterical.

"You need to work on your way with the ladies, bad cop," Jazz said, shaking his head.

Strangely enough, Dart was thinking the same thing. Well, at least the bad cop part. Okay, it was one thing to know that human police forces had codes that they stuck to, things that they weren't allowed to do to someone. This Autobot seemed like an enforcement officer - his actions and words were ones that correlated with the profession, at least what she remembered from her dealings with them. However, he was an alien from another planet, and that's what she was trying to understand right now. Was the black and white mech a cop, was that his function? Or was it a reaction, or even a simulation that had emerged with the mode he shifted into? What happened when they caught her?

Dart may not have been a Decepticon long, but she had picked up on the fact that Autobot related medical problems seemed to be a common thread. They were serious injuries too: wings ripped off, shattered chest plates, limbs missing and probably being used for a doorstop, yes, all those good things. Er, and dead people, but she wrestled that thought back down before it threatened to completely send her to her knees to huddle in a small ball, begging forgiveness. That would have been a pretty good giveaway that she wasn't a Decepticon, right? Decepticons didn't seem the groveling type - she glanced around, made sure no one else was pitching on their knees and pleading for their lives. Nope. No, wait, there wasn't anyone else on her team, er, side, faction, whatever it was around this area even; it was only her, this bad cop and the guy who sounded like he should be part of Stevie Wonder's road crew.

The binders clinked against Prowl's fingers. "Drop." he ordered again.

_But... but I don't know what they do, what happens to the members of the opposite side when they catch them. I mean, I'm their enemy - right? Once they have me, do they toss me somewhere in a prison and keep me for some sort of exchange or something... or do they line me up against a wall, hand me a cigarette and blindfold and ask me if I have any last words? _

She'd never smoked a cigarette in her life.

Might be a good time to start, though. What was it going to do, ruin her lungs? Hah. Too late!

All of her expectations of the situation's resolution pinpointed onto two things. One, the mech in front of her seemed deadly serious... well, one of them. The other one had a easy grin on his mouth, he'd leaned comfortably back on his heels, and was lounging easily out of range of her knife blade.

A stuttered whine worked out of her throat, and her spoiler chattered counterpoint.

She could spin and run. She'd run on a blown knee before, right?

Sure. But that had been without the overhanging threat of being blown _up_.

"Yes, sir," she said, after a longing look up into the hills. She raised her hands up carefully in front of her, watched as the knife blades slid back into her wrists with a grating noise. "Understand, sir."

"Good. Nice and slow, and no one will get hurt."

"But _I_ will hurt you, Autobots!"

A shriek of engines split the air as the F-15 dove at them, nearly standing on its nose as it dived towards them. Silver wings pushed back with the strain, flaps pinned back against the hardness of the air; the jet drove downwards. Divots spat up from the sand, the holes where fired laser beams struck hissed and popped; molten rock was held together by cracking ribbons of glass.

Regaining himself, Prowl steadied his gun and fired upwards as Starscream flung out his flaps to the left and then the right. The jet banked, came back for another pass, this time coming dangerously close to taking Jazz down with a wing. Jazz threw himself aside, fired upwards. Starscream bucked in mid-air and a ribbon of smoke trailed out from his side. Prowl studied the air-commander's attack, frowned. _He's drawing our fire. That's completely out of pattern for him. _Abruptly, he raised his gun higher, targeting the plane, chin up, and gaze intent on the mech. One blue optic slid back slowly to keep the shadow of the girl in his sights... _three two one... now. _

Dart gathered herself and leapt past both Autobots in a desperate lunge.

One agonized yelp couldn't be bit back as she put weight on her leg and dashed past them. Her sprint had turned into an awkward, ungainly gait; but she was only using the tip of her toe to balance, barely brushing it against the wet sand to support herself. Instantly, the plane banked and rolled, Starscream transformed, swept down, hand outstretched. His fingers clenched, surrounded the angles of her spoiler; with a snarl he yanked the girl off her feet, and curved to sweep out over the ocean, obscuring them both himself and the courier with the wreckage of the tanker and the clouds of oily, dense smoke.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ow!"

"Be still!"

"That hurts!"

Starscream fished around in her leg again, this time twisting the tips of the instrument he was using around the tiny, slowly dissolving pellet. "I'm sure it does," he told her, inching the hemostat device deep into her thigh. She heard the sharp click-click-click as his fingers compressed the handle loops of the repair instrument and clamped down hard. Dart clenched the edge of the table with her fingers, turned her head back and forth as she chewed her lip; then the courier blew out a long stream of air past her intakes in a painful hiss and fidgeted slightly under the harsh, blue-white glare of the lamp that was swung over the table. Trying not to look down at what he was doing, she lifted her chin and high-beamed her optics with the flood-lamp. Immediately, she brought up her hand to shade them as she shuffled her other arm behind her hip to support her weight.

"I told you to hold still," he snapped.

"I'm trying, I swear," she grumbled. "What are those things? I mean, what did he shoot me with? "

"Acid pellet rounds. I've been hit by them before." He drew out the pellet, inspected it like he'd and threw it into a shallow depression in the metal table she was sitting on. The tiny pitted sphere resembled birdshot; small and spherical. It sad and bubbled with the handful he'd extracted already; waves of odd sulfur smell wisped up and caused Dart to draw back and snort twice to get the scent out of her olfactory sensors.

"Acid pellets?" she asked as she dipped her head and thrust her nose awkwardly into the air currents as if she could cleanse them by breathing.

"Yes, they're interesting ammunition. They're designed to corrode circuitry and maim fuel lines; it's a shot manufactured to merely cripple, not kill. Rather useless, actually. Unless of course you aim at someone's head or upper chest, perhaps even at their main relays... hmm, then it would cause a slow, lingering death, while your systems-"

Dart's palm thrust up, fingers flat in the sort of warning that was most often used when you were in a crosswalk and an oncoming bus was trundling straight at you. "You can stop now, thank you, I completely understand what they are now. Er, not to seem in a rush, but - how fast can you get them out of my knee?"

"I'm done."

Dart nodded in obvious relief and watched the mech wipe off the fuel soaked tips of the pincers with a scrap of metallic weave cloth. He crumpled it up in his fingers and tossed it into a overflowing trash-bin on the floor. She let out a sigh, and allowed her chin to drop to her chest and rest against the edge of her throat-guard. "It doesn't burn anymore. Thanks."

"Flex it."

Instantly, the courier obeyed. Her blue optics slitted sharply, so obvious was her wince. Immediately, she let her leg go limp again. "Ow. Moving it still hurts, though."

"Your self repair systems will deal with it. It's minor line damage. I'm not going to bother to repair that, it would be a waste of my time."

Dubiously, Dart slid her fingers over the joint, prodded it gently. "So, you're sure it will heal?"

"I said it was _minor_ damage."

"Oh. Right. Got it. Things that feel as if there's a hot poker shoved into my leg is minor damage. So, ha ha, what's major damage, oh wait, never mind. That one I'm pretty sure I'm familiar with."

Starscream grunted, then turned his attention on repairing the hole in own shoulder. A few minutes passed in silence. Dart fidgeted again, shifted her weight from one hip to the other. Bringing up her wrist, she studied it, hesitated, and then tried clenching her fist. Nothing happened. Slowly, she tried flexing one finger at a time, bending her hand this way and that, and finally, she made a tense fist, was rewarded with grating noises deep within her forearm. Oh ho, that's how it was done, it seemed, but it appeared to be stuck. Shaking her wrist a few times made the blade finally creep out, sharp tip flattened against her knuckles.

"I didn't know I had these," she said after a pause. "I mean, I sort of feel I should have a Swiss Army logo somewhere. Or do I have one tattooed on my rump that I don't know about?"

"Swiss Army?"

"Never mind."

"Easily done."

The mech turned his back on her completely as he leaned up and searched the overhanging shelf for another tube of patching epoxy.

As she flexed her knee back and forth slightly, Dart looked down at the tip of the blade resting flush against the back of her hand. She reached down, carefully clamped the edge of her thumb and finger over the tip, and pulled. The knife resisted - no, it was more like the inner workings of her arm resisted; the systems were designed to push the blade out, not to let it be pulled. She picked and wriggled at it, flexing her wrist this way and that. Finally, there was a popping noise from deep within her arm, near her elbow and the knife slid free. Dart tugged on it until it extended out to the full length and bent her head to inspect it.

There was a deep notch in the edge, a chunk of metal was completely missing. Fissures had scattered through the metal, and she ran her finger lightly down the edge. _Whoa, I heard the crack, but it's worse than I thought. If I hadn't struck that guy a glancing blow, I would have shattered this in half, maybe even sheared it completely off. _

Blue fingers encircled her wrist. Dart reared back in surprise at the abrupt touch; Starscream's hand clamped down, drew her arm to him as he peered down and examined the blade.

"You nearly broke this through. What did you hit?"

"A red Autobot," she replied, flinching as he gripped the blade and agitated it back and forth. Her wrist joint sounded like a metal can full of gravel. "A big, blocky red Autobot."

"Blocky red Autobot? Wait, Ironhide? You hit Ironhide with this?"

"I don't know who he was. I didn't stop to ask his name when we met. Of course, I was going really fast, at the time, then I hit some ice or something and then I crashed into him and it sort of went downhill from there-"

"I'll have to pull to repair it."

"Pull it?!" she gaped, as she attempted to tug herself out of his grip. "No way, it's attached into my _arm_, it's not like wisdom teeth."

He flicked his wings back and dug one heel casually into the floor to hold her steady.

"You're lucky you didn't shatter it into the casing," he told her, shaking his head. "What do you have about going up against opponents who are much stronger than you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You seem to have the oddest death-wish I've ever seen."

Dart's spoiler rattled, the sound loud in the quiet work-room.

Still holding the blade, Starscream brought his other hand down and twisted her wrist upside down, then pressed the ball of his thumb into the bare grey metal right above her elbow, his forefinger placed on the back of the joint. There was a scraping noise, followed by a mechanical pop. With a deft twist of his fingers, the knife slid out of the internal grooves and fell into the mech's palm. Releasing the courier, he stepped away from her and took the blade to the other table, tossed it down on the workbench. It clacked against the metal surface as he pulled out a drawer underneath the repair bench and started hunting through the tools within. Snips, micro-torch, spanner wrench, bonder cement, no no... ah, a filament file, that was a start. At least the Constructicons hadn't gotten their grubby hands on his good tools yet, but he could have sworn that he'd locked this drawer last time he'd left the room.

"I happen to like living," Dart replied slowly, ruefully chafing her fingers back and forth around her wrist.

"Really? Well, I wouldn't have guessed that from your actions. First, you try to take a rather pitifully weak body up against me back, well... you know. Then you take this one, a better one, and you insult my hard work by attempting to fight a heavily armored Autobot with it."

Intakes coughed out a sharp burst of air. Dart tensed, and her spoiler flattened sourly to her back as her head lowered, dipped her chin to the side. A flash of blue lit up the sharp shadows on the high planes of her grey cheek as she curled the corners of her lips back and glared at him.

"Okay, why do you always have to insult me?" she snapped angrily. "Like this was my fault, I got ordered to go take the Autobots on. You think I was charging back into that combat with the lasers and the bombs and the shooting me in the knee with acid pellets because I wanted to? Heck no. No way. Sorry, I was taking the direct route away from that battle, hello. I was running away like Ravage told me to do, and then Megatron gave me that order. He directed that order right at me. Get in there and fight. What was I supposed to do? Tell him, sorry, can't obey your orders, sir?"

He stopped, glanced at her. "I do all the time."

"Yeah, I know. No, wait, hold on... _everyone _knows that."

Starscream snapped his head around to glare back at her. _That's not the sort of behavior I need her picking up from the others. Not at all. It's unacceptable. _His view of the courier was blocked by the partitions on his shoulder, and he slitted his optics and scowled into the darkness of his own shadow before he slowly lifted one shoulder and wing in a dismissive shrug. Rooting through the drawer, he placed a few things onto the work bench, then pulled the filament file out of the drawer and lifted up the damaged knife. "Well, they should. I don't have to listen to one thing our glorious leader says, what escapes his bellowing vocalizer is mere drivel. But, getting back to our discussion, I wasn't insulting you, right now."

Starscream heard her pause; a sharp draw on her intakes pulled back in that breath she had expelled. The creak of her plating told him her weight had shifted on the bench, but he didn't turn around to look at her. Instead, he cradled the knife in his hand and surveyed down the length of the weapon. _Stress fracture. Easily fixed and reinforced, and the chip is easily repaired as well... ah well, at least she didn't break it in half, I hate wasting time on trivial projects. _

"You weren't?"

Dart canted her head, ducked her chin, and swung her legs slightly, pointing her toes downward as her fingers curled around the edge of the table again.

"No. I was merely going to point out - before you interrupted me - that you have more courage than I would have expected under the circumstances. Megatron can't fault you, you pitched yourself into that battle like a true Decepticon, and you were holding your own against those two down on the beach."

Dart's head lifted, followed by her spoiler as it slipped away from its tight clamp on her back with a mechanical sigh. "I did good, then?"

"You did fine."

"Er... thanks. Hey, sorry I'm so snappy. It's not every day that I've been chased down and shot."

Starscream shrugged again, there was the hot hiss of metal being welded by the tiny torch as he worked on spot-tamping a patch onto the knife. He held it up, inspected it, watched the beads of silver from the patch flow into the cracks and bond instantly within them. Carefully, he passed the torch over it a few more times and then held it up, the edge glowing a cherry red that diminished to a dull, spotty grey. Turning the torch back in his hand, he pressed the tiny lever that sent a blast of concentrated coolant against the repair and quenched the metal instantly. It hissed and popped, and he set the tool down and reached for the filament rasp, smoothed down his repairs with practiced ease. Tiny curlicues of shaved metal drifted down and were caught in the air currents.

"Really now?" he told her. "I thought that's all you - that humans did."

"Where did you ever get that idea?"

"It's all over the airwaves on this planet."

"What is? Oh, shooting and chasing?"

"Usually accompanied by cars going off of cliffs and exploding."

"Um, the A-Team is not representative of human daily life, I promise. I do get a kick out of Murdock, though. That guy always makes me laugh, he's not as crazy as everyone thinks he is, but, er, I think you've been watching too much television," she replied with a halfhearted smile.

"I watch insignificant amounts of that nonsense," he snorted. "Why would one want to live their life staring into a box is beyond me."

"Good question."

He turned back towards her, carrying the blade. "Hold out your arm."

Instantly, she lifted her wrist to him, flexing her hand down slightly. Her fingers were loose and curled under as he slipped the flat end of her knife into the slot below the back of her wrist, aligned it with the grooves, gripped her elbow and squeezed. Quickly, he angled her arm upwards, and pushed the knife back inside of her forearm until the blade clicked.

"Pull it back," he told her. "Good. Now, extend it. There, it's fixed."

She nodded. "Still feels weird to have you popping out pieces that are part of me. I don't think I like the idea that I'm like a giant Lego set, but..." Her attention was caught by something, the dark, drying patch on his shoulder, where the metal was still carbon-scored in places. Dart's nose thrust forward slightly. The smell of the battle still clung to his metal, all cordite and ozone. Slanted blue optics darkened until they were the color of old faded jeans, and a tiny growl burbled in the pit of her chest. Starscream pulled his hand back, watched her.

"He set you up," she said suddenly.

"What?"

"Megatron. He set you up. He had me attack them even though he knew that my capabilities don't run that way."

Starscream tensed slightly as he replayed the battle in his mind. _If she figured it out, then it was obvious. He knew that she couldn't do what he asked, and he wanted me out of the situation... but... how did he know that I would go to her aid? Perhaps he perceives me as more of a threat since they left me to die that time. _Then he stared at the female in front of him. _No. He sent her in to die to show me who's in control. Do that again, Megatron, and you should watch your back every moment of the rotation of this planet. You have no control over me or anything of mine. _

"I'm right, wasn't I?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he admitted, still lost in thought. "He set us up. However, I have no intentions of losing you to one of his daily whims." He clasped his hands behind his back, and turned to pace back and forth as he spoke. His footsteps were loud and metallic; they rapped across the floor plating, overwhelming the soft background hum of the machinery.

"Oh really?"

"Really," he replied absentmindedly, still thinking. She wondered if he realized he was doing it out loud as he paced.

"Well, um, as much as I don't like the idea of losing me to one of his whims, trust me, I'm sort of curious as to what's your reason?"

"Just because. You actually listen to me."

"Ah. You like me, then."

"Well, of course I like you, you -"

Dart took immense satisfaction at the look on the mech's face as he suddenly stopped in mid-pace. He stared over at her, shuttered his optics in a blink.

"Actually, I don't actually like you..." he rescinded. "The only reason I attacked is that I'd hate to lose someone who could be valuable to my cause."

"Your cause?"

"The Decepticon cause. When I rule, I could use good, loyal troops."

"You do like me," she laughed, and tipped herself forward on the table with a lopsided grin. "Hey, does this mean we're friends now?"

"No, it doesn't, it means --"

"Wow. You know, one of these days, you could maybe just say, something like, 'sure, we're friends', and leave it at that. Eh, maybe I'll get you to someday, what do you think?"

"I told you before. I don't have friends."

"Okay. Suit yourself." Dart said suddenly, hopping off of the table. She teetered unsteadily for a second, flexed her knee, and started to limp stiffly towards the door, shoulders squared.

"Where are you going?"

"Out for a breath of fresh air. This place is suddenly way too stuffy for me." she replied.

"You can't go off the tower," he reminded her peevishly. She put her hand on her hip and gave him a long cool stare. He watched her, crossing his arms in front of himself as he allowed himself to look as smug as he felt.

"Nope. You're right. But, I can go under the water. I'll swim it."

She poked the sensor on the door and stepped out. A few limping strides echoed, and then Starscream heard her break into a light trot, her footsteps bouncing back to him until the door hissed shut. He stood and stared down at the table, trying to regain his composure by kicking the poor innocent torch that had rolled off the table and landed on the floor across the room a few times until it rolled down a vent and escaped his wrath through the miracle of duct-work.

* * *

_I can run again! _

Dart sprang across the open ground, head lowered, elbows pumping as she shot through the dark towers of the Douglas Firs for the sheer joy of feeling her body in motion. The sunset had vanished hours earlier, golds and reds off to the west. Abruptly, the courier slid to a stop, panting clouds of steam air out of her intakes as she reared back on her toes, danced and fidgeted. Underneath her feet, the loam had turned into a dirt so fine and powdery it could have passed for powdered sugar sifted through a sieve.

She pivoted, bounded in the opposite direction. As she sped up a nearby embankment, the trees seemed to advance forever, towering over her as depth perception attempted to take it all in and finally had to admit defeat. She was slowly getting used to this quirk of vision when running - everything stood still in the distance and seemed to freeze around her as if someone had slapped the pause button on an expensive video cassette recorder, then slammed it into fast forward as she passed the point she'd been focused on a few seconds before. Branches slapped against her chest and flanks, the scent of pungent pine pitch coated her olfactory sensors and slid deliciously into her throat; it was a smell she could swallow and savor like the first menthol lozenge during a bad cold.

Perhaps it was these new senses, coming from sensors and not nerve endings that gave these woods that surrealistic quality. She dashed down through the forest and bounced out of the water and lunged up the ferny bank, leaving long slippery trails in the muddy embankment before running through a set of quivering aspens out into an open clearing. Almost instantly, her full bore gallop was pulled up into a trot, and then she settled a few more strides, systems blowing out puffs of air as she reined herself into a long-limbed walk.

Above her, peeking over the mountains, a crescent of moonlight hung. The sliver seemed tacked into place on that vast sky, and illuminated everything cold silver. Even the pines around her seemed to have taken on a metallic cast. They stretched into the sky, pointed like great metal towers, even dwarfing her own size, and for a second, she stood in honest, awestruck wonder at the view.

This far away from lights and civilization, the stars shone bright. She pattered to a stop and tilted her chin back, staring up at the sky.

Once, when she was a kid, she'd made herself a planetarium with instructions on the back of a cereal carton, taping tinfoil all over the box and then poking it hundreds of times with a safety pin. When she'd put it up to a lamp and peered through, pinpoints of light struck her eyes, constellations like no other. It became her own personal fiefdom of far off galaxies. She'd made up the things that lived in them in idle hours spent at school, doodling in the margins of her lined paper. Aliens and rocket ships, brave heroes that roared onto oppressed planets and saved the day, whole worlds full of creatures that didn't have to study things like the cotton gin and its place in society.

Not that the cotton gin was a bad thing, but in a kid's mind, Dr. McCoy had Eli Whitney beat by a four-wide margin.

Impatiently, her body danced a sidestep, and she tossed her head, eyed the mountains in the distance. How far away? Hundreds of miles, at least, it would take her a day to drive there, if not... wait.

She couldn't help it, she threw back her head and laughed.

_Heck, just run there, maybe take half an hour, at most? I can outrun jetliners, I bet. Huh, I wonder how fast a jetliner goes, really. What, a thousand miles an hour? I have no idea. I think I can outrun one, anyway, let's see how fast I can get there..._

Her body dropped into a crouch, her fingers dug at the loam as she hitched up her knee, posing like a starter in the blocks, and she ducked her head...

The Trans-Am's hood slammed right into the ground as Dart's back tires squealed and spat up a huge spray of dirt. Engine coughing and sputtering, she lunged back up in her robot mode, snorted out a spray of loam and pine needles from her intakes as she rubbed the back of her hand across her nose and mouth.

_Oh, that was graceful. Glad no one else saw that happen, or they'd all be laughing at me even more than they already do. Okay, note to self, remember the difference between sprinting and turning into a sports car, or one of these days you'll run through a parking garage wall or drive off a bridge, and... oh wow. I didn't think about it that time, it happened, I turned into a car, I did it, and I didn't even have to think about how to turn or what to do, I sort of fell right into it. _

_What am I doing? Er, better to say, what am I becoming? It's sure not me. Is it? _

"Something else?" Her voice echoed oddly through the empty forest, but she didn't care. Who was going to hear her? A few chipmunks? Instead, she lifted her head and stared up at the slice of moon hanging overhead again, shifted her hands to the small of her back as she dug the tip of her foot into the loam. A sigh escaped her as she brought up her hands back around to look at them. _That's what scares me. Bye bye humanity, hello giant robot can opener._ The grey metal gleamed coldly as she flexed her fingers. "It's still me, right?"

"Still you? Who else would you be, Dart?"

She jumped and whirled to two pinpoints of red light watching her. Instantly, her hand went to her chest, pressed down as if she could forcefully still the sensation of her main fuel pump trying to clamber out of her throat and run yelping back into the safety of the woods.

"Whoa, I'm sorry, I whoa... ."

Starscream stepped out of the trees and stood silently in the moon-silvered clearing.

"I didn't hear you coming." she said quietly.

He shrugged, offered up a thin smile. "I like to rely more on guile than brute force."

"I need to pay more attention, don't I? I mean, you could've been an ambush."

"Here? Not likely. You're too close to base." He walked toward her, then stopped a few lengths away. "Who were you talking to?" he asked, suspiciously regarding a nearby clump of maple. Arms crossed, his wings flared behind him stiffly, and he flicked his crimson gaze to either side of the courier, testing the darkness of the forest beyond with his optics, glance flickering like the tongue of a snake.

"Who-oh, myself," she replied, with a half shrug that rattled the curves of her shoulders. "Sorry."

"No need," he replied, settling back on his heels. "I do it. Most intelligent beings do."

"Just a way of sorting our thoughts, right?"

"Perhaps." Starscream agreed. "It does help."

Another step and he was standing across from her. The mech's dark head tipped back, and he too regarded the sky. Slowly, he brought up his hand to rub across his chin as he observed upwards for a long moment, then he shrugged.

"Clear night, for once. I hate these weather patterns out here, but... for once you can actually see Cybertron," he said abruptly.

"You can see it from here? From Earth? Really?" she wondered, and suddenly, she was straining on her tiptoes as if that would help bring what he was looking at into focus, her spoiler flicking up to perk over her shoulders.. "Seriously, can you?"

He caught the excitement in her voice, and half smiled, as he thrust a finger upwards.

"There. That star. No, not there. Not there either. Bearing two seven eight..." She gave him a frustrated glance, and he sighed, his wings clattering as he rethought his words. "There, Dart. Go left. No, not your left. Mine. Here," he offered. "Sight down my arm. See it now? That star. That blue one."

"I think so. The really dim one?"

"They're all dim. Your planet's-Earth's atmosphere interferes too much for my liking." He turned his head slightly, and looked at the trees that gleamed silver in the moonlight. The colors, the rigidity of their forms reminded him of home. Tall spires surrounding dark canyons; he could even block out the horrible scent of organic slop that pervaded everything, if he tried hard enough, and concentrated on the sharp contrast of shadows. Dart lifted her leg, scraped her toe restlessly across the loam, he looked down to see clinging clots of mud splattered across her calves. Disgusting. That explained that appalling smell, at least.

He was amazed she didn't seem to notice it, what with the enhanced sensors he'd built into her. Although, he had used old dissection diagrams from a turbo-hound to lay down the pathways for her olfactory systems; the beasts didn't seem to notice background scents as well as they did the one they'd been set on for tracking. If he could smell it, though... _I'll make her rinse off before she sets one foot into my workroom again. Peh. _

The mech turned his head and lifted his nose back towards the sky, allowing the air to drench his systems clean.

"Someday. Someday I'll get back to Cybertron," he muttered.

"You miss it."

"I do," he admitted. _Someday. Someday my time will come. I will lead our forces to victory, and return to Cybertron. I will fly between the stars again. Odd, flying...interesting thought..._ _I wonder why she fears it so? _

"Because." she replied.

Starscream twitched a wing and glanced over at her, realized that he'd spoken the last thought out loud. No matter, it was a question that needed to be answered. "I'm... curious. You need to start flying before someone suspects."

"No one's said anything yet. I'm a courier, right? I run. I like the ground, that's all. No one cares."

"Actually, I do."

He hated to admit it to himself, but he did. If for nothing else than it would be a waste to have her get deactivated for merely not flying. She was actually proving to be quite resourceful. Her optics met his, and she looked away.

"Do you?" she asked him.

He nodded, allowing himself to keep it short and sharp, acting as if he wasn't sure he should be asking.

Dart's hands hovered around her hip carriers, she thrust her fingers down as if she once again had stuffed them into invisible pockets. Her shoulders fell, she dropped her gaze and scuffed at the ground. For once, he didn't immediately chide her on the gesture, merely stood and waited for her to speak.

"My folks died in a plane crash," she blurted, as if she was dashing forward with words, and then her voice became thick and low, a stumble where she had to stop and gather herself back onto her feet. "They were coming back from vacation, stopped over in California. The plane was running late, it was some sort of maintenance issue. They ended up missing their connecting flight. I'd offered to pick them up from the airport, I was back from school for the break, you know? The airlines offered to put them up, it was late. So, it sort of came down to my decision, since I was the one driving to get them. I told them I didn't care, I'd meet them at midnight, no problem. I'd missed them, couldn't wait to see them.

"They didn't come in at midnight. Didn't come in at one, either... and then they had some airline official announce that those of us waiting for the flight to please come upstairs to some room. I don't even remember what room it was in the airport. I guess that's how they do it, they call those waiting aside to tell them. I don't remember a whole lot, though, I sort of blanked out how I got home that night, actually, I forgot a lot of it. Some therapist told me it was normal though, that's how some people deal with death."

Starscream inclined his head.

A faint, struggling grin flicked across her mouth. "That's a nice way for them to bill medical insurance for a lot of money. Therapy, I mean. I basically admit it, I freaked out for a while. I used to like flying, I really did, honest. I remember the feeling of looking down and realizing you were so far above anything else that they were unimportant. Just you and the sky, and when I met you... I thought... you weren't a plane. You were something else. Someone that could understand that feeling that I had so long ago, before I bundled up Wolf in the car that night and drove to the..."

Her optics shuttered in a blink.

"Oh... oh no, no, no," she cried suddenly and backed up a step, shaking her head. Awkwardly, her hand came up to paw behind the grey curve set on the side of her black helmet. "Wolf. I forgot about Wolf. I did, I forgot about my dog, I can't believe I forgot about the dog. The last thing I really remember was thinking that he was going to be left out there and no one would find him, out there in the woods. He's dead, no one will get up there for months."

Starscream watched the courier's tension rise, observed as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, stared left and right, blue optics dim, then bright. "I need to go see if I can find him. If he's dead, it's my fault, it's all my fault, I can't believe I did that to him..."

Before she could break free and bolt, he reached out and clamped his hands over her shoulders.

"Stop."

Dart froze as his fingers snaked around the black curve of her metal, and he leaned his weight into his elbows, pressing her back into the earth with the weight of his body. The girl stared up at him, mouth slightly open, air whistling past her intakes in a distressed whine.

"The dog is fine. Listen to me. You asked me to get the dog. I did. I took the beast somewhere where I knew something would take care of him, since I knew you liked the blasted, drooling thing." The Air Commander snorted and curled his mouth plates back into a look of disgust. "Why you spent that much time with it, I could never understand. That creature had a bark that was just the right pitch to give me terrible feedback. I can't see why anyone would actually want to own one of those."

Starscream watched her critically, his fingers creeping into the gap in her plating, digging into the rotational joint of her shoulders, but he didn't have to shift his weight and pinch to keep her there. _Ahhh, there we go, _he thought, as he felt the tension seep away; she came off of her toes and lowered her heels to the ground, the spoiler slunk down and settled across her back.

"You heard me. The dog is fine. It was the least I could do..." he hesitated, then watched her, a thin-lipped smile crossing his features as he lowered his head, flashing a gleam of white from behind his lips. His wings swept out behind him as he took his hand off her shoulder and drifted his fingers to spread them magnanimously across the curve of the canopy in the center of his chest. "For a friend, yes?"

The courier's mouth fell open again, and her jaw worked from side to side. She made a noise, low in her throat, then another which rose into a garbled, unintelligible series of soft sounds of obvious delight and relief. Without warning, she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist in a hug that rocked him back on his heels, pressing her forehead to his chest. He stiffened in surprise, and at the ripple of tension in his frame she instantly let go and held out her hands, palms up. Quickly releasing him, she bounded back away with a gawky tangle of lanky leg and awkward limb.

"Thank you," she finally managed to say.

"You're welcome."

Up on her toes, Dart pranced back and forth, and then a quirky lopsided grin caught the corners of her mouth as she began to laugh. "The mighty Starscream saying that I'm welcome. Oh oh. What is this world coming to?"

"Hmph. Nothing good, I'm afraid. Let's not let anyone else in on this, shall we? I do have a reputation."

"Not a very good one according to Megatron," she teased. She continued to laugh, but now there was a lightness to the sound, honest and open. Spinning on her heel, she took a few strides, shot back, scattered wet leaves and dirt in a wide arc around her, lifted her nose up towards that sliver of moon, drew in huge gulps of air. Relief made her uncontainable, she pawed at the ground, releasing tension with every swath of ground that she dug up.

"Enough," he told her with a rasping growl as he idly watched her bounce around him with wry amusement. "Don't think that just because I've admitted that we're friends that it changes things at all."

"I would never think that." she said, raising her hands to him and bobbing her head. She made an strange gesture with her forefinger over her lightning bolt and sigil. "Honest. Cross my hea— er, fuel pump."

"Good."

* * *

"They're going to have to make another fuel raid soon. They didn't get enough last time to satisfy Megatron's greed."

Optimus Prime nodded slowly.

"Have you figured out where they are most likely to strike, Prowl?"

In answer, the strategist pointed at Hound's projected holographic map in front of them on the briefing table. Next to Optimus, Ironhide leaned over his leader's shoulder to peer down. Hound grinned and made one of the tiny cars driving down the illusionary highway stop, transform, and wave at the old red mech. Ironhide chuckled and waved back.

Prowl rubbed the bridge of his nose as a sigh of air escaped out of his intakes. Hound quickly made the little hologram disappear as Prowl continued. "It has to be somewhere where they can use maximum air capabilities. Last time, we were able to counter with the fact that the roads led into an area that contained natural cover. Megatron wasn't factoring that in. The motion of the water and the ships themselves made finding targets extremely difficult. Based on their actions, their fuel needs, I would guess -" he pointed at a flat area of the map, "here." His finger tapped through a spot on the map. "Hanford."

"Hanford?" Prime echoed. "Wait. That's the nuclear processing site. Government owned, isn't it?"

"Yes, Prime. It's southeastern Washington State," Prowl nodded. "It's a contractor facility that produces primarily plutonium for the United States nuclear weapons program. Unfortunately, it also stores about fifty million gallons of dangerous high level waste in hundreds of underground waste tanks. Noting this, and calculating the situation and the age of the storage units, I would say at least a third of them have a chance to fail and leak. Liquid waste contains long-lived radionuclides, and speaking from a purely observational standpoint, my opinion is that the government has not entirely forthcoming in its assurances that nothing has reached the groundwater at the site. Actually, I'd say that based on my recent discovery of possible dispersal through water tables towards the Columbia, they might find that it might be one of the most - if not the most - contaminated site in all of North America. I did discuss my findings with Professor Ludenstet at Oregon State University a few months back, though. Hopefully, it will get to the proper channels."

"Actually, I'd agree with that," Hound replied. "I was talking to one of the geophysicists, he's a friend of Chip's family... he was saying that he thought their storage practices needed an overhaul."

"So what in the heck would the Decepticons want with a bunch of radioactive water?" Ironhide wondered out loud. "Take a bath in it? Then again, that might chalk right up there with Megatron's other schemes. Swear, that guy's got more dumb ideas. Crud, next he'll tromp on back down to Peru again, pokin' around those pyramids again before we know it."

"No, not the water. The waste is spent as far as human purposes go, of course, but the Decepticons should be able to be able to eke more usable energy out of it. It might be an old nuclear waste facility for the humans, but there is still enough unstable energy within the tanks to make it a worthy target for Megatron's attentions."

Prime rubbed his chin. "If Megatron brings out that material, the chances of injury or death to those in the area is extremely high."

"Extremely," Prowl agreed.

"Can't we just set up an ambush?" Hound asked, making the illusionary cars on the map band together, transform, and take aim at the jets that appeared out of nowhere. A miniature pitched battle occurred, culminated in Sunstreaker and Sideswipe riding two fleeing Decepticon jets into the sunset. "Before he gets there?"

"Makes sense to me," Ironhide agreed, tapping a little piece of metal he'd been turning over in his fingers against the table top in an erratic, thoughtful rhythm. "Chief?"

"Prowl?"

"It could be effectively done. If we use these natural rock formations here and here as cover, shut down all but basic systems, it should be simple to prepare a welcome for them that might make them decide that the site isn't worth their time. I would expect them to try to come in from this direction -" he ran a finger across the holographic terrain, "and sweep through here in the next few days. With the damage to their troops from our last confrontation... I would say they'll proceed forward within seventy-two Earth hours. Should I assemble a strike team, Prime?"

"Affirmative," Prime replied, with a nod. "When you've completed the roster, call them to assemble up by Teltran-One. I'll meet you there, and we can go over the plan."

"Yes, Prime."

The Autobot leader dipped his chin once more and left the room.

"All right!" Ironhide tossed the chip of metal he'd been playing with up in the air, caught it in his other hand. "Let's do it! Nothin' better than puttin' the brakes to the floor on the Decepticreep's plans, I always say."

"Ironhide, where did you get that?"

"Get what?"

"That," Prowl reiterated, as he reached out his finger to indicate the object now flat against Ironhide's black palm.

"Oh, this?" Ironhide asked, holding the bit of silver in his fingertips and rolling the sliver across his knuckles as if it was a coin. "Last battle. Member that leggy little she-con that you and Jazz were tellin' Prime about?"

Prowl nodded.

"Well, she went at me first. Left me a cheap souvenir in my wrist joint. Ratchet found it when I went in for an overhaul."

"May I see it?"

"Heck, you can have it," Ironhide offered, as he underhanded it in a slow, lazy arc towards the tactician. "Can't see what I'd be needin' it for."

Prowl picked it perfectly out of the air with his fingertips.

"Toothpick?" Hound offered with a smile, plopping down into his chair and crossing his legs in front of him as he turned off his projector, and the hologram drifted away into nothing to reveal the rust-colored flat surface of the table underneath.

"You think I'm going to put somethin' some female 'Con had on her in my mouth?" Ironhide chuckled. "No way. Ain't gonna to happen."

Hound laughed and raised his left brow plate. "Point taken. But it is a good mental image."

"Don't even think about tryin' to make that into a hologram, you."

The green Autobot held up his hands and ducked behind his spread fingers with a broad grin, dodging Ironhide's playful punch with practiced ease. "Never crossed my mind. Swear."

"Interesting," Prowl continued thoughtfully, his voice taking on the tone it did when he was analyzing information placed in front of him - an absentminded murmur. "This does reinforce my theory into fact, I'm fairly sure. No long distance weaponry. This metal wasn't designed to strike on the vector she used, either. It's meant to be a slashing weapon, not a jabbing one."

The black and white tactician held the sliver up to the light, turning it in the amber cast of the overhead illuminators. Ironhide watched Prowl, counted off two seconds, and was rewarded with exactly what he expected; the blue optics shifting into that indrawn look, as if he was seeing every possible explanation to the situation he'd been handed. "There's a high amount of Earthen material mixed into this weapon's makeup, did you notice? Some Cybertronian alloy, too, but... no, the structure is weaker than it should be, considering it's a knife, and inset knives mean a close-combat fighter. Ah, here we go, yes, yes... the damage was caused by not by the fact she hit you, but it was the way she hit you, see the edge here?"

Ironhide leaned over to peer at the shard in Prowl's grasp. The black and white mech was in his element, tearing apart situations down to their bones and reassembling them to create museum perfect skeletons.

"Huh," the red mech replied, leaning over to peer at the shard in Prowl's grasp. Weapons were Ironhide's strong area of expertise. "I got what you mean. Too thin for a good puncturing knife. Too light, easily damaged."

"Badly wielded," Prowl corrected him gently. "She hammered on you with it, didn't slash. I'm betting that whoever put her back together - the earthen materials tell me she's been given a rebuild recently - didn't expect her to be stopped during a fight and take on someone with your sort of front line armor in close quarters, Ironhide. Between that and Starscream's behavior, I'd say that there's not a doubt in my head he is directly involved with her appearance, as he was with the Combaticons."

"Aw, he's always got his hands buried to the elbow in somethin' foul, that tinfoil turkey."

"True, and I don't appreciate it when Decepticons start acting out of pattern."

"Yeah, I heard he was drawin' your fire. That's like the first sign of the apocalypse, right?"

"Nah, nah, that's when they yell attack during a skirmish instead of retreat," Hound chuckled.

Ironhide grinned and slapped his thigh, a grin stretched across his amiable face. "Aw, they retreat all the time, that's for sure. Even that girl, she hightailed it right out of there on me, faster than a shady Cybertronian rocket port. But, you're right about that part, though, Prowl. That she-con aimed for my optics at first, and whoo, I put a stop to that real quick, threw up my arm. She hit that, bounced right off me. Way better than the alternative - I could see Doc Ratchet blowin' every fuse he had over having to replace my optic glass again."

"Owch, bad pun," Hound interjected as he leaned his chin on his knuckles.

"Thanks. Worked on that one. Seriously, though, you make sense, Prowl."

Prowl rubbed the fragment between his thumb and forefinger. "You're sure that I can keep this?"

"Yup. I can't give Hound here any more ideas about what he's doing with those holograms of his."

Hound thunked his hands down his mid-section and casually leaned back in his chair, tipping the back into the rough hewn stone wall behind him for balance. He kicked up his left foot and settled his heel on the edge of the table. "Hey, now, no worries about that, Ironhide. Besides, I've got better stuff recorded for movie night and I didn't even have to make it up myself. Well, not that I could make anything this good up, this movie is the best. It's about a town that gets terrorized by killer rabbits. Giant killer rabbits."

"Rabbits? You mean the critters that hop around on the road margins? Aww, now hold on, those little fellas are cute, don't look like they could kill much but a few stalks of grass."

"Not these guys. We need to get a few of them, set them loose at Decepticon HQ, I'm telling you, they'd take care of Megatron once and for all. Oh yeah, I found it on KOIN-TV down here last weekend. They re-ran it Saturday and Sunday, so I grabbed a copy. I made it for Bluestreak to watch with me, but he's on patrol, so I figured I'd toss it up on in the rec-hall on the screen and let you all enjoy. It's great. Best movie ever made."

"Well, shoot, might have to hold onto that one till I can get in on the watchin', that's for sure. Ahh, Prowl, sorry, guess I'd rather talk the fun stuff than patrol stuff, right now. Oh well, back to work, let's get this strike team figured out, see who we've got on the roster up and runnin'. Blasted Decepticons, think about them way too often, and wish I didn't have to."

* * *

"Stop choking me! Let go for half a moment!" 

Dart stared up at the underside of Starscream's chin as if she couldn't quite figure out who he was talking to. She ducked her head a second later as cold wind whacked her across the face, shoved her nose deep back down into the metal crook of her elbow. Her left arm stayed where it was, though, locked in a death-grip around Starscream's neck, tightly wedged between the gap of his shoulder and the edge of his helmet. The mech rasped out a blast of air, turned his head to the left and the right, then brought up a hand to attempt to pry her fingers loose. "You do realize it would make this much easier if you would think about flying!"

"I am thinking about it," the courier replied, but her words were muffled against her own plating. "I'm trying not to think about it, actually. When you weren't talking about the fact, I was doing better."

"Well, then don't talk about it, just attempt it. Flying for you should be perfectly natural."

"Er, gravity is also natural too, and do we have to talk about this right now?"

"This seems the perfect time to talk about it. You can't trot off, and you need to understand, I can't - no, I won't - always carry you. If we needed to make a fast escape, we certainly could not."

"Hey, I'm all for you dropping me off down there. The only reason I'm here at all is... well, I don't know. Why am I here?"

He sighed. "Because all available troops were requested on this mission, that's why. Now, you may not have noticed this, your optics being shuttered on the way off the tower as they were, but our headquarters is situated at the bottom of the ocean, and it will continue to be so until we can build another shuttle to get us off this blasted planet. Tell me, what will you do when you're sent out and I'm not there to haul you onto dry land?"

"Dog paddle," she replied, managing to offer up a weak grin.

He glanced down at her, flattened his mouth. "Really..."

"I did it last time. Took me a while, but no, I didn't magically Bibbity-Bobbity-Boo my way to the shore, honest," she replied, turning her head to glance briefly down at the landscape beneath them. A greenish-brown river was winding through the flat plane-land of eastern Washington, mountains blue haze on the horizon. Warily, she gauged the distance between her and the ground._ Okay, Dart, that's all in your head. Psychological, as you've heard a million times. You can conquer it if you try. _A quick glance down again made her realize the futileness of that comment. _No way. If he drops me... I'm a metallic splat. I will not look down, I will not... _

"What do you want?"

"Uh, at the moment? Ground. Feet on it."

"No, not you. Him."

The sharp, octane laden scent of burning jet fuel washed over her olfactory sensors as the disembodied voice rolled out from deep within the cockpit of the black and lavender F-15 that swept into view, framed against the expanse of blue sky.

"Hello, hello. Hey, looks like someone's still afraid to fly?" he leered, dipping his wing. "I can see why, knowing the Snake's bad habit of getting himself shot out of the sky."

"Go away," Dart muttered.

"No can do, sorry! Actually, I've got a message here for Screamer himself. Should be your job, but hey, you'll owe me. We'll work it out later, how's that sound?" he said, his ailerons lifting as he turned his nose towards them, his canopy level with the side of her calf. His wings tipped a bit, left, then right, and he swept so close she could feel the slap of air against her leg. Dart pushed her nose deeper into her elbow and peered out over the edge of her arm so she could hide the involuntary curl of her lip and swallow down the tiny growl that had strayed into her throat. _Oh, I really don't like him. I take that back, he's a jerk, and a bully and he just likes to bully anyone he can find that's smaller than he is. I think I've made his special list, for some reason. _

"Megatron wants you up front for a second, oh fearless wing-leader."

"What, he can't bother to comm me with that message?"

"Naw, it's because we're back to that keep all transmissions down to a minimum thing, and hey, funny thing, the message runner's up here, and wait a minute, she's not flying, ha ha..."

"Blast," Starscream muttered. "Fine, fine, we're going. No, wait. Here. You carry her for a moment. He may want me to go and scout, and frankly, I can't transform with you in hand, Dart."

A grinding of gears and popping of metal signified Skywarp's transformation out of his alt mode, and left him hovering in mid-air with a brow-ridge raised in surprise at the request. He started to reach out a hand towards the girl.

Dart automatically jerked away from the outstretched fingers. No way were they going to hand her off like a track baton when they were in the air. Starscream could carry her... sure, she trusted him. He was a friend, something familiar, even when things had happened, he hadn't crashed at all and...

A slow, thick smile rippled over Skywarp's mouth at her flinch, as if it was one of those accelerated science films of mold crawling over bread. The black mech lowered the brim of his helmet and saluted lightly with the flat of his hand.

"Yes sir, Air-Commander, sir," he said. "I'll be happy to carry her, of course," he said, extending out his arm, his hand reaching for the small of her back. "Well, come on, let go of him."

"Uh... I'd rather not. It's a long way down, and–"

"Oh, for crying out loud," the mech scowled, cutting her off. To Dart, his glower was a far more pleasant expression than the smile of moments before. "Keep that up and Screamer's going to have to null you or something."

"Let go. It's only for a moment, and... oof, here. I'm not going to null her, if you can't handle a girl, perfectly well un-nulled, well, that's not my fault, you idiot. And don't drop her, either," he warned as an afterthought.

Skywarp's hand found purchase on Dart's spoiler as his other one grabbed her upper arm and pulled her into him. "Well, that's up to her, isn't it?"

Feet dangling over nothing, the courier had that stiff-legged, wild eyed expression that was usually restricted to animals being forced into fruit-scented bubble baths. Or people being shoved out of airliners with no parachute, it was sort of a tossup.

"I mean it. Don't drop her, or you'll be answering to me."

Dart managed to stifle a yelp, fingers locked around the edge of Starscream's shoulder as if she were a long-legged limpet. It took prying and a stiff elbow into her mid-section for her to release her grip, and she was thrust into the black mech's hands, and Starscream flared his heel thrusters and swept past them both, heading towards Megatron. As much as he didn't want to spend time with his illustrious leader, he wasn't being choked by Dart any longer. That was a small favor; if she choked Skywarp, all the better.

"Yeah, I'm shaking," Skywarp muttered after Starscream as he adjusted his grip on the courier, draping her thighs over his arm as if he was a butler with an expensive fur coat. "What are you going to do, whine and retreat on me?"

It had dawned on Dart finally that the more she moved, the more likely that the whole dropping thing was going to make an appearance. Trying to keep her body from fully making contact with Skywarp's plating, she let her fingertips bite into her palms and turned her head into the whistle of the air. "You know, if he hears you, he's not going to like what you're saying."

"Oh, give it a rest, and stop defending the Snake. What did he do, program it into you or something? Listen, Starscream there doesn't have the steel to do the things he's always threatening to do to everyone. Hey, here, some free advice here for you, as soon as he figures out his next scheme, you're history. Ask the Combaticons about that."

Tucking her chin against her chest, Dart stared down the jagged stripe of her silver lightning bolt, following the angles with her optics. "Okay, thanks. Appreciate the warning. You want me to give him the message?"

Skywarp brayed out a laugh, lurched; there was the sickening sensation of free fall as he cut his thrusters and let gravity do its work in an attempt to drag two large chunks of metal back to earth. On the horizon, the mountain range reflected the morning back at the sky with bright white snow.

"Don't even try to play that game, because you're not at all good at it," he smirked, as the wind slammed into her audios and muffled his voice. "Or at least if you do, don't do it while you're clinging for dear life to the one you're trying to intimidate. There's some more free advice. Gee, and here I was being all nice and giving you a serious warning. Don't rely on Starscream for anything, because guess what, he'll toss you like scrap."

Dart's yelp rose and cracked awkwardly. "Stop it!" she cried, one hand fumbling up to clutch at his shoulder guard; he allowed himself a smile and she yanked her hand back. "Just stop that. Fine. Fine. I got your point, okay? I don't think he'll do that, though, but... well, I can take care of myself. Honest."

He kicked out a leg, yellow fire licked out of his heel-thrusters as his body jerked in mid air; his wings rattled as if he was the accordion doors of an old, rickety elevator. At least this time he was going up, not down.

Skywarp snorted. A draft of oily, mechanical breath washed across the top of Dart's helm. She lifted her head, sniffed, and then quickly tucked her chin against her throat guard so he couldn't see her make a face. _Someone needs to drink down a case of Listerine and then scrub out their mouth with a wheel-brush. Yuck. _

"Yeah, hey," he said. "I used to like to dream too. But here I am, still on this mudball."

"It's not a mudball," Dart muttered defensively, digging her fingers back into her palms, leaning as far as possible from any contact with his chest.

"Guess you're right. It's not a mudball, it's got a lot of organic goo here, too."

"It's a pretty place," she argued. "And it was probably prettier before you- we, set foot on it."

Skywarp glanced down at her, before he rolled his optics. "Man, they weren't kidding. Your cognition circuits got the heck scrambled out of them, thanks to what, the corrupted information on that data disk you were on? Defending Screamer, and now you're saying this place is, uh, pretty?"

"My what is what? It is pretty - you know, the woods, the mountains... all of it, it's so different, I guess, right. I mean, er, compared to Cybertron."

The mech raised a brow-ridge. "You know... that's what it is... that's what's been bugging me about you..."

Dart blinked and then jerked her head to the side, hoping her expression didn't match the hollow thud of her main pump against her chest plating. Fuel rushed through lines, roaring into her audios, and she brought up her hand to rub the side of it fitfully against her helmet. _Oh... crud, I can't hear. No, I can't think. Crud, I blew it. Argh, mudball, it's a mudball, we don't like organic places, this planet is horrible. He knows, he... does he know? How could he know?! I swear... I know he's a jerk, but I didn't know he was a smart jerk, oh I'm dead, I'm dead, Starscream's dead... we're both dead..._

"You sound like an Autobot," he told her, slipping into a wheedling falsetto. "Oh, look at the pretty trees. Oh, look at the big wet river."

"What?" she choked out before she was able to replace it with a bark of laughter. "No no. Heck no. I sound like me. I sound like someone who runs and doesn't fly. You can get over the mountains no problem, but I have to run it, and frankly, I like how the ground feels. It's easy to run on and not like the decks at base, it's comfortable."

"Nah, you don't _have _to run. You're afraid to fly..." he said, looking straight ahead as that ugly smile crawled onto his lips again. "Autobots can't fly either."

"They can't? Well... okay, they sure kicked us all for not flying back on the beach. Didn't seem like flying did a whole lot of good... er, wasn't that you that I ran by and slapped that red Autobot who was punching you in the face..?"

The amused grin faded again, followed by a sneer. "What's that you were saying about flying?" Skywarp asked as once again let them free-fall. He waited an unbearable five seconds, and then caught himself with a lazy blast of jet wash. Air whirled around them and he snapped his wings back. "You mentioned something about its usefulness, huh? Hah. You'll learn. Once Screamer stabs you in the back and leaves you to take the fall for him one too many times, you'll learn."

"Whatever," she said, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

"Yeah, you'll be that one he doesn't let down. Heard it from a thousand others, and guess what, most of them were better looking than you. Keep dreaming."

Mercifully, the black mech trailed off, chuckling to himself. Dart took advantage of the silence, taking opportunity presented and shuttered her optics completely to lose herself in that flat wall of grey.

* * *

"You wished to see me?" 

Megatron nodded. "It was interesting to see you flying in something other than your alternate mode, Starscream."

The plane pinned its ailerons sourly and started to roll to the left. The jet caught himself before he could offer up his underside, and yawed back, yellow canopy gleaming balefully in the pale morning sun. Megatron chuckled, his arms outstretched, body flat against the wind. The massive mech's hands were clenched into dark fists as if he was viciously punching the air out from his flight path. Off to his leader's left, Soundwave flew quietly and impassively, his silver faceplate reflecting the jagged tops of the Cascade range in the distance. He didn't even turn his head at the Starscream's flight antics.

Starscream started to offer a retort, but the Decepticon leader already had turned his shoulder to his second in command with obvious indifference, and continued to speak. "Now, you should be relieved at the next order I'm about to give you, then. I want someone on the ground to go in and check out the approach to the facility."

"On the... ground?"

"Are your audio sensors malfunctioning?"

"Of course not!"

"Well, then. Don't fly here and whine, go and do it."

The plane emitted a hiss that didn't come from any mechanical part and swept past, narrowly missing his leader with the trailing edge of his wing. Megatron didn't even move, just merely shrugged and let the engine wash of the other craft flood over him - it never even caused him to stray a millimeter on his flight path.

* * *

_I love, love, love the ground. I could kiss it right now, I could.. _

Dart stretched her foot out behind her and flexed her knee, then shifted her weight onto her other leg and repeated the action. Underneath her weight, the grey, wiry branches of sage and Scotch Broom cracked and popped, seed pods scattered and crackled onto the hard ground. Behind her, Starscream lifted his head and crossed his arms, eyeing the rocky, high-fault terrain for a moment.

"You know what to do," he told her, opening his hand and sweeping it across the flat-land approach into Hanford.

The courier nodded, pointed her toe one more time before she dropped down into a crouch, stretching one leg behind her and then the other as she brought her chest over her locked elbows. Splayed fingers drew small trenches in the dry soil, and her spoiler rose and peered over her shoulders as she turned her head from left to right, eyed the faded blue hills in the distance.

"I think so, yeah," she replied as she stretched out and leaned forward, her chest nearly parallel with the ground beneath her. "Run in on that approach you pointed out from above, right, and tell you if there are any obstacles for a direct approach into the facility, right?"

"Exactly," he replied. "Go on, now."

Dart shifted her weight over her left arm and brought her right hand up to salute him, she then offered up a teasing grin. "Got it. Want me to grab something at the drive-thru window on my way back? Fries, maybe a Diet Coke?"

The blank look the mech proffered in response made the girl chuckle to herself. Quickly, she dropped her chin down so he couldn't see her expression. Nope, laughing at him right now wouldn't help, but she was still miffed about that whole thing with him tossing her off to Skywarp up there. As the black and grey robot hunched against the earth, smelling dew and wet ground and a far off wisp of mint and cattle, she pushed her toes back against the dirt until she'd worked herself into the position of a track starter in the blocks. Then she huffed in a quick suck of air, blew it out and tucked her thigh up underneath her hips. A quick roll of one shoulder, as if she had attempted to shake out a muscle cramp, and she looked up in time to see him gesture with his hand once more, this time throwing out his finger in the appropriate direction. Dart stretched slowly once more, shaking the lubricant through her systems, feeling the give of her calves and knees.

"Be careful," Starscream muttered.

She nodded. "Sure, no problem, I'll–"

Megatron's voice shattered into the airwaves. His words reverberated around her helm, she winced and turned her head to the side and wondered if she had a mute switch. Nothing Ugh. She'd have to ask someone if there was a way to bring down the volume in those internalized transmissions; right now, the Decepticon leader's voice felt as if someone had jammed a screwdriver into the hinge of her jaw and was slamming the chisel point of the flathead home with a metal sledgehammer.

"_Scout ahead, Courier. Report to me about the human presence when you get close."_

"_Yes, sir."_ Immediately, she was bounding forward before she even knew she'd taken that first four strides. Starscream watched the thin trail of dust stream tail after her as she dashed over a low rise of ground and disappeared from sight.

The Air-Commander turned, took a few strides, and lifted his left heel-thruster to fire it and lift himself into the air. His foot slammed back down, skipped on the earth as a crackling snap of communication echoed through his audios.

"_For once in your miserable existence, Starscream, you actually did something useful. She actually does her job. Surprising, seeing her connection with you."_

"_Connection?"_

Megatron snorted._ "Don't play the idiot with me. You know I despise it."_

"_I don't play the idiot."_ Starscream snapped.

"_You're right. You couldn't act that well if you tried. Where is she... ah, there." _A pause as the mech switched over to another, open channel frequency to hail the courier. _"Dart, report."_

"_Nothing so far, sir," _came the girl's response, panting through the roar and pull of her cooling systems. "_It seems awfully quiet out here, to be honest. Well, except for lots of telephone poles, jackrabbits, and brush."_

"_I could care less about the fauna of this planet. Now, let's try again. Autobots?"_

Silence. Then a quiet, _"no Autobots, sir."_

Megatron grunted in response and shut down the communications link between them. Quickly, he beckoned with his hand, causing Thundercracker and Skywarp to swoop up to flank him. Soundwave came up beside the grey blocky form of Megatron, regarded his leader.

"All forces in place and accounted for," he intoned, the words rolling up hollowly from under his faceplate.

"Good."

* * *

_Okay, I take it back, I like Eastern Washington. Driving it by car to get over the pass to Idaho to go skiing? That was completely not fun, it's so boring and flat, but when you're running it? It's wonderful, because wow, you can go fast... there's nothing out here but me and dirt, _Dart decided as she turned and started to sprint towards the east. 

_Wait. There's cows. Ew, yuck, no, there's a whole field where cows used to be. Oops. Oh well, hopefully I can run through a river or two on the way back, I know I saw one on the way in, and it didn't look too hard to ford. I'm so running back, I'm not flying. Especially not with Skywarp, I'd rather drink down some drain cleaner and follow it up with a steel railroad spike being driven into my chest. I don't like him, I don't, he's such a jerk, that guy. I swear... ugh, he makes me want to... _

The farmland slowly shaded to sandstone under Dart's running feet as she half-slid down a hillside, dotting her fingers down as she left a long arc of disturbed soil behind her. Pausing for a moment at the bottom, she panted, sucking cold air sharply through her intakes and feeling it pass her lips. A quizzical look flickered over her features, and then she brought up the back of her hand to hold it in front of her mouth. _Whoa. I breathe... er, is that the term, oh, who knows what it is, who cares - besides, I'm not saying it, I'm thinking it, not like anyone can hear my thoughts when I think it, I breathe like... well, like I'm holding my hand over a car engine after you've run it low on radiator water. _She spread her fingers slightly, let her gaze drift through the grey slats, tilted them to the horizon to peer through as she shaded her optics from the bright slant of the early morning sun.

Dry ground, hard dry ground, grey and yellow rocks buried with jagged tips poking from the earth; the knobby ends appearing to be the rugged, weathered backbone of a long dead beast. Standing and admiring the true scrub-land, Dart scissored her fingers together, then chuckled and reopened them with a flourish of her wrist; then she pointed her nose to the pale sky. A flicker of motion in the air drew her gaze. Instantly, she took a step forward, ready to move out again at seeing a spread of wings circle overhead. _No, not a plane, of course not. It's a bird, you idiot._ _Oh wow, it's a gorgeous bird. I didn't know the feathers on the tail were that color. Wait, that's not a red-tail hawk, it's bigger, it's got ... huh, what sort of hawk is that? _Her optics locked onto the bird; there was a flash of vertigo as her optical systems tried to capture the animal into electronic, clear focus.

"Ooh," Dart muttered aloud. Quickly, she doubled in half and rested her hands on her dusty upper thighs. She had to peer dizzily at the ground until things reset themselves, and then she carefully straightened back up. Craning her head, she felt her spoiler clamp back against her shoulders. Abruptly, she thrust her nose out in front of her, she sniffed at the air-currents before she made a face at herself and half-shuttered an optic. Right. She was going to whiff out the danger, sure, you bet. Then to top it off, she was going to turn into a car and scoot her way across the desert...

No thanks. Those rocks looked pretty dangerous to an eight inch ground clearance. Her muffler wasn't designed for going across heavy terrain. No way was she going back to the repair bay this quick; besides, no doubt Starscream would merely hand her a roll of baling wire and tell her to fix it herself.

Dart shook herself into a trot, and then shifted her weight forward into a ground-eating lope. The landscape whisked by until she found herself at the steep, sloped edge of a long canyon. Carved by water and wind, it snaked its way into the arid landscape. Large boulders of basalt loomed over the rift, feeling as if the stone was anchored by well-spaced tufts of bunch-grass. Combining the stone and the watery, pale sunshine of the early morning threw long shadows across the gap.

The courier eyed the distance from one side to the other briefly. It was too wide to jump, even if she got a good running start; she'd never been quite sure of herself as a hurdler, even on the track; thus, she'd most likely end up with herself crashed down in the middle of it. Hesitating as she glanced up and down the length of the fissure, she lifted her foot and pawed lightly along the earth.

_Hmm. Only way down is over there, looks like. That rockfall seems like the way I can get down there easiest. He told me to use the canyon to go on the final approach... right, I understand. I think I understand, tactically. I'm pretty obvious up on the flat, running, and easy to spot. Yeah, I'm out of place there, that's for sure, don't think anyone's going to mistake me for an elk._

Motion rattled stones down the embankment as Dart started to pick her way down the side; setting one foot carefully down and shifting her weight back as she started to slide. She ended up rearing back and slipping down to the bottom, teetering unsteadily until she dropped herself back into a crouch and rested some of the weight of her body on her hands.

_Nasty place to take a spill... but hey, it's not like I could tear a hamstring anymore. A few hours in a repair bay and presto, good as new. Still, better to be safe than sorry. Besides, I don't want to give Megatron anything else to berate me for. When Starscream has control, I think things would steady out a bit. _

Her foot hit the flat bottom of the canyon, and she eyed the side of the ravine. Red stone striated with sandy rivers of brown, the walls grew sheer and straight as she ran past, but what captured her attention was the sunlight touching the edge far above her. It glinted off the sharp rocks, and filtered softly down, sending long, dusty beams of light towards the bottom, as if she was staring through the stained glass windows of an old church.

_It's gorgeous in here. It almost seems it was built for things of their - our, whoops, size. Look at the massive formations, all the rocks and boulders that are scattered in here. Wow, you could hide a truck down here and no one would know..._

She stopped. Nervously, she shifted her weight from foot to foot, glanced up at the sky, and then back down the long straightaway of the rift. How far had she run? Five miles into it? Ten? They were behind her, right, that's what they said they were going to do, go down through the rift and approach the faculty on foot?

Motion exploded into the corner of her optic. Dart howled out a surprised cry and threw up her arm, rearing backwards. Her hand batted at the air, the knife blade popped out past her wrist and slashed choppily at the object. With a slap of feathers against air, the dusty flicker avoided being impaled by snapping itself to the left. The small bird continued to shriek out his startled warning as he shot towards the ribbon of pale blue winding above her and flung himself over the canyon edge as Dart fled the opposite way. She managed to pull herself up before she'd gone fifty yards, but her spoiler clanged against her shoulders as she brought her rattling spoiler under control and opened the open comm-link to the other Decepticons.

"_Megatron, sir?" _

Four beats of her main fuel pump swished energy nervously through her system before there was a terse response.

"_Yes?"_

"_Sir... you wanted me to go through the canyon, right? To approach into the facility?"_

"_That was the order, correct. Humans, I assume? Well, no matter, we're here, and they can't get a call out to those accursed Autobots to help them."_

"_No sir... er, no humans."_

"_Then why are you speaking to me right now?" _

"_I - I," _the courier's voice stuttered over the comm-link._"I don't think that this - well, I don't know. I just think this might not be the right thing to do." _

Starscream had to stifle an internal moan of frustration and embarrassment as Megatron glared over at him._ Give it up, Dart. We are taking this blasted facility! Humans or no humans, you are one of us now, and you can't go back. I don't see why she even wants to associate herself with those organic sacks of goo. One of these days she's going to slip and then I'll be in trouble...but then again, she hasn't slipped yet. If it happens, I'll just tell them she's shorted something..._ He glanced over at Megatron. The Decepticon leader's scowl had turned his face even uglier than usual.

"_You think? Can you give me a reason why?" _

"_Uh, not really, it's sort of a funny feeling I.. it's really quiet here, and then this bird freaked out and -"_

"_A funny feeling? Let us try this again, courier. Is there anything down there?" _

"_No, but-"_

Starscream caught the obvious agitation in her voice again and started to slow._ She is actually upset about something else. She honestly believes something is wrong. Better to be on my guard. I trust those instincts more than I trust -_ Thundercracker nearly bumped him, and Starscream cursed, slipping aside.

"_Then don't think," _Megatron wryly chuckled back. Thundercracker and Skywarp echoed him with hearty guffaws. "_Obviously you aren't doing it well."_

"_Yes sir. I'll keep that in mind."_

Dart closed the communication link with a mental sigh. Shuffling her feet, she slowly turned herself around, back towards the facility. The courier had managed to take about five more steps forward when a noise from behind made her pivot on her heel and stare wildly around her. Nothing. Nothing but the red slope of old landslides, the grey jut of a mound of boulders, to the left. Rocks. Yeah, those were pretty dangerous, there.

Okay, now she was just being stupid, neurotic. Knowing the way the day had gone, that bird was probably up on the rim, laughing down at her.

Without thinking, she turned her nose into the shifting wind, sniffed at the air. A sweet, light odor drifted into her sensors. She rolled it around for a moment, letting it seep through her systems. It was familiar.

Scent abruptly shoved aside contemplation; the molecules of odor drove alarm into the back of her throat. Her spoiler snapped up over her shoulders as she pivoted in place. _Oh no. No, that can't be right, I've got to... no, it is right! What... what... I've got to warn– _

Spinning in place, Dart fumbled with her communicator, wildly searching through the frequencies."Ambush!!" she cried out loud. "Autobots!" It took her a frantic second to remember exactly how the comm turned on. "Ah!" she yelped as she clapped her hand to the side of her head and tried to fight down her rising panic. _Work, you stupid thing, turn on, turn on, where did I put the on switch, argh, why did I shut it off in the first place... _With a pop, the comm finally hissed into life again; it announced its displeasure with squealing feedback.

This was immediately followed by shouts and a series of furious curses by the other Decepticons.

"_What the hell are you doing, Dart?" _

"_Geeze, lady, turn it down! Turn down the volume!" _

"_Ow ow ow ow... someone go up there and turn it off for her, or I'll catch up to her and do it myself." _

"_Oh, shut up, Skywarp!" _Dart finally managed to snap over the din. The squeal of the feedback cracked across her audio sensors like _"Sir! Starscream! Ambush! Autobots!" _

"Nice going, Bluestreak," Huffer muttered as he stood up out of the pile of rocks he'd been under. "You gave our position away."

"Hey, I didn't know that rock was loose! I'm not a geologist or anything... wait, that's the right term, isn't it, for the humans who study rocks, right?" the silver mech replied, unfolding himself from his Datsun mode onto his feet and shaking the dirt off. It didn't seem to matter that there only been a few Autobot sized handfuls of dry red soil tossed over his plating to help secure the camouflage; the silver mech offered up a shudder and flicked his doors back and forth in an effort to rid himself of it. Not because he cared if he was dirty, but because he could still feel the weight of the grit on his chest plate, and anything that reminded him...

_Not the time to think about that. No. Can't do that right now, keep focus. Keep focus. _

With a soft grunt, Bluestreak swung his rifle into his hands, feeling the solid weight of the stock resting against his palm. Quickly, he turned his gaze to the left, automatically falling into a pattern of sweeping the area for any other Decepticons. Anxiously, he scanned the sky, peering his gaze off of the twin missile launchers that jutted on either side of his head.

"Yeah, Blue, geologist is the right word."

Chuckling, Hound stood upright as he dropped the hologram that he'd been using to conceal his fellow Autobots. The rocky outcrops melted back with the absence of the projection, and then things flickered into view. Boulders became curved car-tops, bristly silver-grey sagebrush flickered and crackled and revealed itself to be the black turn of a rubber tire; even a tiny ruddy sparrow that had been hopping jerkily around a small outcrop shook its wings and nested itself back to be the spread rally flags of a blue Corvette's hood ornament. The muted grey and tan of the ravine exploded into bright, glaring color, red, green, white, yellow, harsh and obviously mechanical against the natural backdrop. An engine snarled once, twelve cylinders protesting the fact that it had been forced to sit idle for what it considered an inordinately long amount of time.

Dumbfounded at their sudden appearance, the girl snapped her head back around and her frantic calls into her communications link accelerated; her voice now a staccato, ringing bark. Across her shoulders, the metal strip of her spoiler popped sharply against her plating, lifted and then smacked her again as she stiffly backed up a step, then another, her neck twisting this way before she tucked her chin against her throat-guard. Her shoulders tightened, drew in on herself as she shrunk in on herself and fell back another stride, legs scissoring over one another as she focused back the Autobots again. She brought a hand up, rubbed at the corner of her optics as if she somehow expected the machines were only figments of her overactive imagination - that the robots would vanish as instantly as they appeared and turn back into the twisted columns of canyon stone and reflected light.

Hound couldn't help himself. With a grin so wide that it half-shuttered his bright blue optics, the tracker lifted up his hand and tossed a cheerful wave towards the Decepticon.

"Hey there!" he called out. "Nice day out, isn't it?"

"Are you talking to that Decepticon?" Bluestreak asked.

"Sure, why not?"

"Well, sure, it is a nice day, but hang on, wait a minute, there's a lot of things I can understand, but you know, you've got me a bit confused on this one, because I've never met any Decepticon who cared about the weather or the time of day except to figure out how to use it to their best advantage while they were destroying someone's city..."

"Well, it is a gorgeous day, no matter who you are. Not a cloud in the sky."

Bluestreak turned his head and started to reply, but Ironhide's wide shoulders shuffled Hound off to one side and obscured the tracker as he stepped up between the two mechanisms.

"Hey, you two, quit jawin'. They're going to need us down back behind, for the pin."

At that familiar drawl, the Decepticon's focus clamped down on the red mech. Optics widening, her nose thrust forward long enough to suck in a gulp of air before she whirled in place, sluicing up a swath of red dirt. Pebbles rattled off of her heels, cracked against the rocks. One flattened stone managed to skip three times, spattering up puffs of red dust before it clanged into the side of Hound's leg. Bluestreak rose onto the tips of his feet, doors flaring as he arched back, but the olive green mech raised his brow and shrugged off the sound as the black and grey robot bounded away from them.

"Only a rock, nothing else," Hound said with a smile, lifting his doors casually in an effort to calm his nervous friend. "Chipped off a bit of paint, reminds me of the time we were behind that gravel truck, Blue, coming up I-Five, remember? Where they didn't have the load netted, and you lost all that paint and cracked your windshield? Ratchet was ticked, man, was he - whoa, she's hightailing it out of here, look at her go."

Hand pressed to his forehead to shade his optics, he commented, "Wow, she does run, doesn't she?"

Instinctively drawn to the rush of movement, Bluestreak snapped his rifle into place and pressed his optic to the sight; the cross-hair pattern etched soft red into his vision as he focused on the Decepticon accelerating away from them. The scope responded by offering up the distance of his target, each lengthening stride caused it to rise by meters, the gleaming barrel of the rifle swept to the right and then paused, aimed directly at a spot underneath the center of the running robot's spoiler. Slowly, the silver mech hissed out a draft of air from between his lips to stand perfectly straight and still, his finger delicately on the trigger, chatter silenced by his total focus on his target.

"Don't shoot," Ironhide ordered quietly, curling his black fingers to cover the end of the scope as he gave the rifle a gentle push downwards. Bluestreak challenged the motion and his jaw ticked, but the resistance only lasted a fraction of a second before he turned his head and eyed the bulky red mech over the side of his missile launcher.

"What? Why not?" he wondered. "Ironhide, I can take that 'Con down quickly."

"No. They can't hear whatever she's squallin'. We got her jammed, that girl's comm is only spoutin' out feedback at the moment thanks to Blaster. However, those roto-rats'll slinking behind will pick up the energy spike of a shot and know we're onto them, so - Sideswipe! Got a job for ya. Fire up your rocket pack, and get your tailpipe after that she-con; don't need the Deceptijerks realizin' what's up until Prowl's got them where he wanted them."

Sideswipe glanced up from where he was picking at a deep scratch now etched into the glossy paint of his forearm. "Ooh, seriously?" he asked, swaggering past Sunstreaker as he tossed Ironhide a jaunty salute.

"Do you think I would have said it if I wasn't?"

With a grin, Sideswipe ignited his rocket pack and kicked off the ground. "I'm on it!" he crowed, as a rolling wash of hot exhaust poured across both Bluestreak and Ironhide. The twin rocket boosters on the pack sputtered once more, then fully ignited. A burst of blue-white roared out from behind his shoulders; yellow streamers of flame trailed behind the mech as he flew forward down the canyon, arms extended in front of him.

Far ahead, Dart threw herself from one step to another, flattening out as she sought maximum drive in each stride. Head tipped forward, her intakes now angled down and functioned as if her throat was a straight pipe; it channeled the air down into her narrow to help her cooling deal with the rapid buildup of heat her systems now produced. Servos flexed and pistons tightened; the courier's following leg hurtled off the ground before the first had even achieved full extension. Sliding around the corner of the canyon, she lost ground as her ankles crossed over and sent her skidding a good five meters towards the rock wall. She dotted her fingers down to catch her weight; her spoiler lifted on the left, clamped down on the right and used her body weight and motion to pull her back into a straight line, forced her back onto her original route straight down the center of the ravine.

Was that engine noise, rumbling behind her? No, no, it must be the rush of the wind, slipping into the gaps in her helmet. Her chin jerked slightly, she wanted nothing more than to turn her head and throw a glance over her shoulder, to make sure no one was following... The courier hoped that she could get out of the canyon, that she could run out the way she came and get up onto the flat lands - unpinned between the high walls, she might be able to leave them behind. As it was, there was so much loose rock and debris scattered around the canyon floor, Dart couldn't help but be terrified that she was going to fall, that she'd slip and tumble head over heels, break something...

A wall of glossy red veered sharply into her line of vision.

Immediately, Dart spooked and swerved to the left. One leg touched down short and came down on the side of her foot; the ankle rolled inward in an effort to keep her from snapping the internal support rod. Thrown off her stride, she stumbled and nearly fell. Hands snatched greedily at the air in an attempt to find purchase on something as she nearly bounced off the rocky side of the canyon. _Wait! Wait, he said Autobots don't fly!_ Well, this was obviously one more thing that Skywarp was going to get a huge laugh out of - obviously he'd been having a lot of fun at her expense. The mech swooped in so close that there was a huge swirl of hot air against her flank, and then a shower of tiny bits of gravel kicked back into her face. Reflexively, the courier thrust out her hand to protect her optics, it made her dig her heels in to slide to an awkward stop.

The reeking burn of jet wash made her cough. The mech landed in front of her, knees flexing to cushion the jarring impact of his landing. With a grin, he strode out of the swirl of dust and debris he'd kicked up.

"Hey there, gorgeous! Okay, maybe not so gorgeous, heh. Did you miss me?"

Recognition. Dart groaned inwardly as it took on the form of the Autobot from the beach. Even worse, it took on the form of the one she'd slapped to try and make him let go of Skywarp.

_Oh oh. _

* * *

With a roar, Megatron brought his fusion cannon to bear. 

"I'll send you to the scrap heap, Prime!"

The huge gun sighted down on the massive blue and red form of the Autobot leader, its deep throat starting to glow. Before the shot was fired, Optimus Prime crashed into the dull grey of the mech, one hand diving underneath to lock around his wrist and force the weapon upwards. The other hand delivered a series of rapid blows to Megatron's mid-section, and the Decepticon grunted and folded halfway down under the force of the strikes. The cannon released a harmless jet of energy roaring into the sky.

"You'll have to try harder, Megatron," Prime replied, shifting his feet. Snarling, Megatron attempted to twist from the hip and return the blow, but pinned as he was against the rock wall behind him, he couldn't get the leverage. Immediately, Prime shifted and brought his hand up to punch him in the chin, lifting the Decepticon leader clear off the ground and cracking the mech's helmet into the stone. With a crack, the sandstone pulverized, and the red dust haloed Megatron's head, jetting out from behind him as if it was a spray of blood.

"We're getting creamed!" Thundercracker shouted, fingers clutching his shoulder where the metal had been peeled aside by shrapnel. Through the gaps in his digits, the gaping hole gleamed wetly, rotator cuff exposed, torn wires and internal struts oozing within a sheen of his own fluids.

Soundwave was fighting to eject his cassettes as he shoved his weight against the bulky black Autobot in front of him.

"Uh-uh!" Trailbreaker snapped, slamming his hand down on the Decepticon's chest. "Keep them, I don't want them, thanks!" He punched Soundwave; underneath his blow, the corner of the blue mech's faceplate shattered. Greenish ooze trickled out of the wound and the Decepticon staggered back as Trailbreaker snatched at his opponent's shoulder, whirling him back around in time to land another fist hard into Soundwave's exposed mid-section.

Snarling, Ravage pounced on the Autobot's back. Hind paws clawed gashes into the black paint of Trailbreaker's back as he scrabbled for purchase. An instant later, silver fangs stabbed underneath the edge of Trailbreaker's helmet as Ravage snapped his jaws around the sides of the Autobot's unprotected neck. A burst of half-processed fuel spurted into the corners of the cat's mouth and spattered back along his shoulders as he clamped down harder, chewing motions driving his teeth deeper and deeper into the exposed metallic skin. Trailbreaker howled and let go of Soundwave, both arms reaching over his back, attempting to find purchase on his new assailant and throw him off. Half throttled with the strength of Ravage's grip, the mech coughed and sputtered, and long strips of paint peeled off the mech's back as the cat's hind legs kicked viciously at his body. Something else slammed into his knee joint; the weight pitched him forward onto all fours.

"We got him, boss!" Rumble shouted as he smashed his partially transformed pile-driver into Trailbreaker's side. "How do you like this, huh? Nobody goes after Soundwave without dealing with us!"

"Yeah, well, I guess I'll deal with you first, then!"

Rearing back, the Autobot twisted. Arching his shoulders, the dusty black mech crashed his full weight onto the cat clinging to his back and battered Ravage into the stone of the canyon, slamming the animal against the rocks. A squeal of metal echoed; the back of the cat's head struck stone. Fangs popped free with a spray of fuel as Ravage lost his grip. Instantly, Trailbreaker pulled up his elbow to drive it deep into the cat's mid-section, then thrust out his hand to snag the middle of the cat's tail in his free hand. Fuel sluicing down his neck, the Autobot lunged back up to his feet; he then used the snarling beast's body like a club to knock Rumble aside before flinging the animal straight at Soundwave's chest.

The cat arched and twisted aside as he managed to avoid crashing into Soundwave. Instead, he thumped gracelessly down onto all four feet, swung his head to regard the missile casing crushed into his side. _Useless. The bomb is useless until I can get that repaired. _Turning to regard Soundwave and realizing he had managed to get himself safely into a better position to defend himself, the cat shook his head, spattered the foul-tasting fuel out of the sides of his mouth, and leapt for the shadows cast off the stones, vanishing completely into the offered darkness.

"Laserbeak. Eject. Buzzsaw. Eject. Operation, blind!"

Both birds screamed in unison as they burst out of the mech's chest, unfolding themselves into two pairs of wings. Serrated beaks snapped at the sky, metal talons clawed at the air as they shrieked their acknowledgment of Soundwave's orders. Flinging themselves skyward, they swept around, parted the air with the knife edges of their wings, shrilled and dove down towards Trailbreaker's face, their sleek bodies reflecting across his blue optic visor as Soundwave turned and kicked himself into the air, Rumble scrambling after him.

"'Breaker! Get your shield up!"

Red waves of shimmering energy drifted down to encircle the mech as he dropped to one knee. A hole appeared in Soundwave's shoulder as Cliffjumper fired again to draw the Decepticon's attention onto himself. Soundwave continued to climb into the sky. A shimmering rush of air, a popping noise, and Skywarp appeared behind the small red mech, his arm lifted as he locked onto the Autobot with his laser rifle.

"Cliffjumper! Behind you!" Trailbreaker gurgled.

Spinning on his heel, the red Autobot turned in time for the projectile to explode against his chest and not rip a huge hole through his head. The force of the blast threw him into the stone wall; the small robot rolled limply and came to rest in a huddled heap on the canyon floor. Instantly, the larger mech dropped his shield long enough to leap over the body of his friend and then flare it back into place as four more shots came flying towards them both. Fire exploded as the energy projectiles licked off the edge of the shield and blackened the tufts of grass outside of it into sinuous writhing carbon strands. Skywarp cursed, turned and stepped sideways into that multicolored scintillation of light, vanished once more.

"You okay there?" the black mech asked the smaller one.

"I'm... give me a sec. My head's still on my shoulders, right?"

"Yeah, seems to be."

"Well, then I'm good! Let's tune Soundwave out permanently."

"Sounds good," Trailbreaker coughed, wiping his hand across the back of his mouth as he spat out a glob of coagulating fuel onto the ground. "Count to three take down this shield, rush him?"

"You got it, wait a moment... crud, that stupid cat chewed the heck out of you."

"Nah, it's not that bad, just a few holes. Self-repair's kicking in pretty quick. I can still help."

"Yeah, until Doc Ratchet sees you. Then he'll kill me for not telling you you're out of this one. Ugh, 'Breaker, there's a puddle under you already."

"It's a small puddle."

"Small in terms of what? Crater Lake?"

"Hey, Crater Lake's pretty small."

"Yeah yeah. Maybe if you're an ocean liner."

"Now, there would be an interesting transformation."

"Yeah, we could just put you on a catapult and toss you at the Decepticons. Great idea!"

Trailbreaker chuckled. "Well, long as I land on Megatron and not an iceberg, it's all good, right?"

"Huh?"

"Eh, just a local joke. There, think it's closing up. Just in time too - shield's running out of juice. On three!"

"Three!"

Swooping across the battlefield, following their original orders, the two Decepticon birds wheeled and dove towards the stunned form of an orange and blue mech. Buzzsaw was the first to land awkwardly on the prone body; his talons skittered and crossed over as he fumbled for purchase on the Autobot's chest, then wedged themselves in the gaps in the mech's plating. Wings spread for balance, the bird leaned forward, then cocked his head as if he was curiously admiring his reflection in the mech's dull blue optic glass.

Behind him, Laserbeak circled twice, and then landed warily on the ground. Craning his neck, the second bird snaked it out from side to side, nervously eyeing the fighting around them, as if he was ready to throw himself back into the air at the first sign that he'd been spotted.

Buzzsaw turned his head and regarded the other bird, and then rattled his wings as he redirected his attention back on the Autobot. A quick shuffle of his feet, then he cautiously set the tip of his beak against the center of the mech's eye, tapped delicately, as if he was politely knocking on a door, a salesman waiting to see if anyone was home. He craned his neck back, waited - no, no moan, not even a twitch of finger or hand...

The bird's beak gaped open, and his optics half slitted. Less than a second later, he flared his wings and pushed on the air to add thrust to his motion as he stiffened his neck and slammed the diamond-hard edge of his bill directly into the center of the mech's optic. The flat glass shattered inward from the force of the blow, and buried the serrated edge of his beak directly into the oily delight of delicate optic sensors. Buzzsaw rooted around for a moment, then fastidiously picked through the jagged slivers of blue glass before tearing out a mouthful of tiny tubes and coated wires.

Pain pulled Huffer brutally back into awareness, and he batted at the bird-like creature with his still working arm. Calmly flapping his wings and adjusting his weight, Buzzsaw flipped his head back and swallowed his prize with obvious relish before his gaze landed once again on Laserbeak, who was working his way towards the commotion with a curious, sideways hop.

Buzzsaw hissed, flapped. His beak clicked out a warning.

Laserbeak cawed, jounced a meter and keeled his chest towards the ground, wings extended as he wove from side to side, lowered his head until it nearly brushed the red dirt underneath him. Buzzsaw hissed again.

Lazerbeak crow-hopped once more, then settled down, his body language relaying that he understood; he would patiently wait his turn. There might not be the tender optic relays left when Laserbeak was done dining, but there would be choice bits of vocal and audio sensors... he could wait.

The blast sent Laserbeak on his back, his feet pedaling uselessly at the air as he shrieked and shrilled.

Buzzsaw leapt into the air, wings pumping frantically for lift, but it was too late. Sunstreaker's blast slammed through his wing, the bird spiraled back into the red rock wall of the canyon, smashing his body from rock to rock until he crumpled into a smoking heap. His head lifted briefly, and he gaped his beak and hissed viciously at his attacker. Sunstreaker curled his lip back, snorted, and slammed his foot onto the bird's neck, pinning him into the ground as he took aim at Laserbeak again. The Decepticon had managed to right himself and was now rocketing into the air, struggling to put sky between him and the yellow mech.

"Pull!" Sunstreaker shouted to no one in particular.

The bird screeched as the shot struck him, and bounced down the side of the canyon. He landed in a smoking, charred heap on the canyon floor. The clawed foot twitched once and then he was still, his beak open in a soundless gape. Sunstreaker turned on his heel, ground viciously Buzzsaw into the red dirt, and then sprinted back down the canyon.

With a nod to Sunstreaker, Brawn lumbered forward, grabbed Huffer, and easily tossed him over his bulky shoulder as he turned and headed back towards the side of the rock wall. "Okay, we're out of here. Better hurry before the buzzards wake up and come back to get seconds. Sorry about this- would have been here earlier, but the jet boys had me pinned down, you know how that is."

Huffer groaned as his forehead bounced uncomfortably off of Brawn's door. "You should have left me there. It's not like it's fixable, is it? I'm going to be blind forever. We don't have the spare parts. It's all over for me, save yourself."

"Okay, no problem," Brawn replied, jogging along. "Lucky he didn't get your other optic, or you really would be blind, huh?"

"Well the other one's shorting out. I'll never see again."

"Gripe gripe gripe. Geeze, you're welcome."

Huffer cleared his throat, wriggled a bit. His nose bounced off of Brawn's wide skid-plate, sending up little puffs of dirt, and he made a face.

"Thank you for bothering to notice me."

"Not a problem, little buddy."

Knowing exactly why Sunstreaker had continued on without stopping to help, Brawn chuckled to himself. With a cheerful whistle, he carried Huffer behind two large boulders, set him down behind the cover. "Wait here," he said with a grin.

"What else am I supposed to do?!" Huffer moaned, as he clapped his hand firmly over his damaged optic and peered shakily up at the bulky green mech.

"Shoot them if they come close," Brawn offered, his attention already drawn back to the battle behind him.

"Oh. Right, I'll just miss! Because I'm _blind!_"

"Cover fire, then? Always works for me!"

"You _punch!_"

"Uh... yeah. Keep up that cover fire!"

Light flared, and Skywarp snapped into view behind Gears. Bumblebee yelled, pointed, and the squat red and blue Autobot spun around, arm raised in time to for it take a bunch of projectiles meant for his back. Explosions and impact made Gears fly backward with a grunt and he clattered to a stop on the canyon floor. Instantly, Bumblebee flung himself forward, head lowered, shoulder out thrust in such a way it would have done a linebacker proud. His elbow smashed into the small of Skywarp's back, and the Decepticon howled as a linkage point above his hips popped out of place. Cursing, he rounded on Bumblebee, and the smaller mech ducked easily underneath Skywarp's blow and grinned.

"Got to be faster than that!" he cheerfully piped up,

Skywarp snarled and leapt for the smaller mech, and Bumblebee nimbly darted out of range and put a boulder between them. Immediately, the black jet mech lunged to chase him. Hands went to close on yellow plating, and the Decepticon's grin slicked across his lips.

Sunstreaker grinned back and fed Skywarp a roundhouse punch that smashed into the Decepticon's pale face and nearly unhinged his jaw. Arching back through the air, Skywarp's wings struck the canyon floor and there was a terrible metallic shriek as the struts that anchored his wings to his body ended up twisting sharply; one even snapped in half under the force of his driving weight.

At Skywarp's shrill call of agony, Starscream peered out from where he'd taken cover behind a spire of rock. There was a smoking hole in the left side of his chest, and he scrubbed at the soot absentmindedly with his fingers as he curled his lips back. His venomous stare wasn't on Sunstreaker now pounding Skywarp's head into the ground with gleeful abandon - no, it was riveted towards where Megatron and Prime struggled against each other. Pinned back against the rock wall, the Decepticon leader could not bring the power of his fusion cannon to bear on the Autobot, who was landing strike after strike.

Starscream's smirk turned into a full blown grin as he watched Megatron's chin crumple from the force of the blows.

_Led us right into a trap, didn't you, Megatron... you moron. I knew. I knew it had to be a trap. Our fearless leader once proves to us all that he is truly nothing more than an idiot. Music to my sensors, Prime. Hit him harder...ah, nice. I could actually enjoy this, as long as it isn't me._

Despite the sore injury, a satisfied smirk walked onto his mouth and settled down for a comfortable stay as he took aim at a spot between the nearest Autobot's shoulders. Sighting down his arm, he started to squeeze off a shot, but lowered his null-ray and watched the battle between Optimus and Megatron instead.

_Perhaps I should turn myself back to the battle, shoot an Autobot or two, help a few of these fools so that they owe me... hmm, no,_ _I wonder if I should aim at our fearless leader instead?_

It was an idea, and one that coiled itself sinuously into his mind and draped across his thoughts. It could look like an accident, so easily. One shot, fired at a nearby foe; in the heat of battle, it wasn't completely unimaginable that someone would duck... or that you could be struck and the aim of your weapon disturbed. Friendly fire was often unavoidable in battle.

Sneer turned into smirk as the jet mech casually lifted his arm. Targeting systems flickered numbers across the lower left corner of his optic as he slid his gaze once again across struggling Autobots and Decepticons; peered through the haze of smoke layering itself in oily ribbons between the rising stone walls. _Now, do it now, the null ray is completely charged – Prime will strike, and no one will ever know that I, Starscream, have removed the one thing standing between total Decepticon conquest of our enemies._

A furious roar split the air; Starscream flinched and immediately shifted his weight, his gun targeting nothing but an outcrop of rock, his smirk buried beneath obvious guilt before he realized that the sound was not - as he had suddenly suspected - directed at him.

Somehow, Megatron had managed to wedge his knee up; with a mighty heave, the Decepticon threw Prime back from him and cast himself up into the air by brute force. Mechanisms scattered as the fusion cannon pointed downwards, looking for a target; Optimus, however, stood firm and steady, the long black barrel of his rifle now eased into his hands as he aimed it up at Megatron.

"I'll destroy you, Prime!" the grey mech snarled.

"You've said that before. And you've always failed at that too." Optimus replied with a chuckle. Two narrowly missed shots convinced the Decepticon leader that he was in a rather precarious position at the moment where he was hovering. Snarling a last curse at Prime, he turned a quick arc in the air and spied Soundwave, swooped off to join the blocky blue mech.

_Damn. Oh well. Next time._ Starscream decided as he waited to hear the words he knew were coming as the other group of Autobots began to arrive, squealing up and transforming to close the beautifully simple trap around them.

* * *

Sand sluiced up in a brick red spray as Dart lunged to the left, then the right, and made an attempt to feint around the mech in her path. Sideswipe laughed and moved precisely enough to block her from bolting past him. Immediately, she backed off and bounded aside. He lowered his head to smile at her over the edge of his chest. Blue optics danced with wicked humor. 

"C'mon, you can do better than that. Whack me one again. Hurt me. Beat me. Hey, know any good lies?"

The girl shuttered her optics in a blink, took a step back.

Sideswipe merely lifted his head and grinned.

A flash of determination hardened the courier's expression, but she didn't respond verbally; instead, the girl squared her shoulders, lowered her head and lunged forward. Immediately, Sideswipe bounced off the edge of his toes and with a slight flare from the rocket pack on his back, landed in front of her. She recoiled as he close-fist punched the air in front of him, and it was only her sudden duck to the left that whisked his knuckles past her jaw. Instantly, she yelped, backpedaled, and threw up her arm as if to protect her face as she ran back, digging her heels into the dirt, rocks pinging off the tips of her toes. Balling his other hand into a fist, the mech jabbed at her flank - whirling to avoid this, she overcompensated and stumbled, and barely avoided another punch as she went down on all fours.

Sideswipe burst out in delighted laughter as he sent the end of his foot winging straight at her skidplate.

"He goes for the extra three!"

Dart whipped her head around in time to realize she was about to get punted through whatever imaginary goal the Autobot had in mind. Fingertips frantically dragging the rest of her along after, the courier scrabbled up a dust cloud before her toes finally dug into the earth and thrust her desperately out of range right as Sideswipe's foot whistled inches off of her rear end.

"But the ball dodges!"

Thrown off of her retreating heels, pebbles bounced off of the red mech's chest and legs with pinging noises. He wondered if he'd have to get a repaint after this was over. Ironhide was going to owe him big. Actually, maybe not. Sideswipe was having fun. Not as much fun as riding a Decepticon jet through the sky, or punching Starscream in the face until he shut up, but what the hey.

Dart plunged forward again, desperately attempting to swerve by him, and he swept his body around, twirled, a flourish to his motions as he easily herded her nearly into the rock. Fighting for her feet again, she got her legs under her and pushed herself off the wall of the canyon in time to dodge the roundhouse clout that cratered the sandstone next to her head and left spider webs radiating through layers of ochre and gold.

_Holy crud, _she thought, as she curvetted in place, her heel driving a divot into the ground underneath her, _this is insane. He's going to smack my head clean off. I've got to get out of here..._

Craning her neck around, the courier stared wildly at the dry rise of the stone walls and then back at the mech who was advancing and grinning, flexing his fingers into fists. She couldn't get through him, no, but...

_Wait. _

_Maybe... _

Spinning back around again, she backed off a few yards, her spoiler chattering and rattling as she eyed him warily. _Bluff. It's worked so far, you're a Decepticon, what would he expect, what would he expect you to do, think, okay, think... _Abruptly making up her mind, she drew herself up on the tips of her toes and thrust her nose forward as she glared at him. Black lips curled back, exposing the gleam of curved white plates between; the edge of tooth bared in angry warning. Slowly, she lowered her head down, curved her shoulders inward and rose up on the tips of her toes.

"Get out of my way," she growled.

"So you can dash on back to your Decepticon pals? What do you take me for, stupid?"

Dart hesitated, obviously wondering if he truly wanted her to answer that particular question.

He rolled an optic and snorted, then tightened his fingers into a fist.

Dart turned at the motion and lunged, the air exploding out of her intakes in a stuttering bark. One of the blades at her wrist popped out past her fingers as she leaned into the strike, slashing desperately at his face. It was a completely obvious move, one that Sideswipe countered without even thinking about it. Stepping easily to the side, he chopped the side of his hand down hard towards the bend of her wrist, intending to drive the girl's arm down to the ground, and allow her body motion to do the rest of the work of stopping her attack completely cold.

Dart snapped herself around, heaved her shoulders to the left and dropped her wrist before he had time to hit it, the blade sliding back into her forearm. Somehow, she crossed her ankles over each other in mid-stride, and shifted her leading leg. It was nearly a ninety-degree snap about as she pushed her toe into the dirt and bolted towards the wall of the canyon. Her fingertips clawed stone and brush as she leapt upwards and struggled to get a grip on the wall, chest grinding against the stone as she struggled to heave herself up towards the rim.

Sideswipe's hand encircled her ankle and clamped down. With a yelp, she scrabbled her fingers against the sandstone and shale; with a grin, he let her gain a yard up or so, and then pulled her slowly back towards him, laughing. Realizing that the red mech was dragging her back down to him, the girl twisted back and forth, then lashed out one leg in a whistling kick. Her own strike threw her to the left, twisted her flank awkwardly around, and her fighting grip on the stone crumbled away. Tumbling backwards, she scrabbled at the air as she fell backwards.

He ducked out from underneath her, swung her around and tossed her away from him. A grunt escaped her intakes when she landed awkwardly on her back; her left hip carrier smashed into the ground.

"You fight like a girl," the red mech informed her, propping his toe up on a nearby rock as he casually leaned over her. For a crazy moment, he almost looked like he was going to reach out a cheerful hand to help her back onto her feet. Instead, he merely crossed his arms and grinned devilishly down at her, his black helmet framing his pale face.

Dart's optics, still a bit dazed, half-shuttered into narrowed slits of blue. Thousands of playground taunts rushed back into her thoughts. _Oh right. Let's see, next he's going to tell me to go play with my dolls. I swear, for giant aliens they sure talk like they're still in grade school half the time._

"Yeah, well, I have a reason to," she replied before she could remember that it might not be in her best interests to make a flippant comeback to someone who could crack sandstone with his fist while she was lying flat on her back. "What's yours?"

Propping his elbow on his knee, Sideswipe rested his chin in his hand and grinned. "Baby, I don't think so," he replied. "Sorry to spoil your hopes, but hey, I'm one hundred percent mech, here."

"Yeah, well," she coughed, spitting out a few chips of rock as she struggled to get to her feet, dragging her heels under her. He watched her with amusement, not even bothering to move as she rose up, tottering a few steps in a wobbly half circle, limping heavily. "Could have fooled me."

"Not surprised. I don't think there's a single real mech in the Decepticon ranks, huh?"

The courier muttered out a response, a word that made Sideswipe blink before he threw his head back and let his throat catapult out his burst of laughter.

"Him? Uh, right. Not even. He's even more girly than you are... but hey, that's not saying much there."

Eyeing the girl's drawn flanks and flattened chest-plate, he nodded once more, as if to agree with his own words. Shrugging himself back into standing fully upright, he threw an audio sensor behind him, picked up the sound of running engines, far off over the edge of the canyon. Ah, so the rest of them had decided to go up and over - made sense, instead of coming along the bottom of the rift. Well, better wrap up his fun, then, get it taken care of... hmm. Ironhide hadn't said what he wanted done with the girl after he'd stopped her, had he?

Lacing his fingers through each other, he cracked his knuckles and grinned at her. "How about you give up?"

Dart spread her legs slightly to keep her balance and snorted dust out of her intakes. "How about I say no?"

Sideswipe grinned, held up a hand in mock terror. "Ooh. My circuits are shaking. Come on, I'll even let you land the first punch."

Sidling, the Decepticon shook her head, then lunged forward. Easily, he swung over as she attempted to squeeze past him and run in any open direction. She leapt aside, balked, and he forged right back at her, swung a fist to make her backpedal, take her fully off balance. Sound worked out of her throat as her fright now was getting overtaken by frustration; deep, rolling growls curled out of her chest and vibrated up out of her lips, a constant mutter of sound. He'd let her approach, open space up to let her duck and slide past him, then land as lightly as a matador and wave one red arm to send her skittering to the left.

"Almost had me that time," he encouraged, with an offhand, shuttered wink of an optic. The look flat out let her know that she wasn't even close.

The Decepticon's lips curled back into a snarl. Her hand jerked up, but she caught herself just as she was folding down four of her fingers. It's not like he'd know what it meant, why bother wasting the time. There had to be a way to get out of here, there had to be something she could do, but wherever she spun or ran, he'd let her go a few yards and then there would be that deep, octane stench of rocket-fuel being burned as he landed right in front of her.

Sideswipe, on the other hand was quite in control of the situation, and was bending it exactly to the way wanted it; now her attempts to get past him were completely obvious. No longer feinting one way and then cutting the other for her, no, she was simply trying to run past. He'd quickly realized that all he had to do was swipe at her, and she'd back off and try another angle, hissing to herself like a leaky radiator. _Keep it up, that's right, _he thought to himselfflexing his arm and eyeing the canyon wall...

His foot slipped and he let out a sharp curse and swung his arm in a wide circle, swaying as he pitched back and forth in attempt to regain his balance.

Instantly, the girl snatched the opportunity as if it was a bit, and spun around to dash back the way she'd come. Sure, there were other Autobots down there, but if she could get the distance, she could climb the canyon wall without being pulled off, and that was all she needed, the flat. Once she was on the flat, oh, oh... she could turn and run, and she was pretty sure she could find her way back to the base, sooner or later she'd run into the ocean, right? All she had to do was run up and down the coast enough times, and she'd get home. Either that or run into Disneyland, where she'd fit right in, sure, she could hide in the Hall of Presidents, right? Lincoln, Madison, giant girl robot. Okay, bad idea, nope, gosh, the things you came up with while sprinting for your life.

"Hey-!" she heard him yell, but missed whatever else he said in the roar of the wind past her audio sensors. Well, he could yell all he wanted, because she was going somewhere as far away from him as she could, and as fast as she could, thank you very much...

There was a faint rasping noise, a whirring hiss that shot past her head as if she was being chased down by a hive of angry hornets. Instinct threw her to the side, she ducked, heard the crack of what sounded like a projectile shattering against stone. Automatic response came, throwing a glance behind her with a quick turn of her head as she noticed that she seemed to have escaped with no damage, well, no, not quite, there was a gleaming thread in the corner of her optic; a chip of rock appeared to have dug a deep line in the glass... but... _oh good, he missed, he missed. Hey, I may not be able to fight, but I can flee like nobody's business, I'm in the — _

The scratch caught the light with an oddly brilliant flash before she slammed into the cable. Stretched out as she was, her strides desperately eating up the ground to put distance between herself and the red mech, the thin metallic line caught her right across the chest, missing her throat by a hand span or two. Her feet shot up and out from under her, lifting her in a bent curve as she hung in the air for a second, spun and twisted, and then her head struck the stone underneath her right before her shoulders smashed down. Mouth-plates cracked together with enough force to spit sparks out of the corner of her lips, followed immediately by the blue splatter of a ruptured coolant line.

Shaken relays went off line and took her optical sensors with them, leaving her with the disorienting sensation of black void where there had been bright sun and banded rock. Choking, coughing on the fluid that was spilling back into her throat, she swung her head back and forth, her nose trying to instinctively compensate for the loss of her sight. Light came back into fuzzy oil on a camera lens focus, her optics regaining power in time to comprehend it was dark now from the shadow of the Autobot looming over her, grinning as he drew his line casually through his fingers before he allowed it to retract back into his forearm.

"Tough luck there. I was telling you to duck, but guess you didn't hear me."

Dart coughed again, blew out a mixture of air bubbles and foamy blue liquid, and wiped her wrist across the back of her mouth. Sideswipe's face was shadowed, backlit and haloed by the bright sun behind him. The only slits of color were his blue optics. It was as if she was staring through a ViewMaster and looking at the sky.

She twitched, brought up her hand to shield her face, bracing herself for the punch she knew was coming.

One foot scrabbled, braced itself against a jut of rock as the mech leaned over her, legs slightly apart to steady him. Sheer chance caught a rock up off the edge of her toe. Driven by the sudden recoil of a leg that was designed to kick off the ground with strength, the rock shot upwards at speed, taking a path that would lead it into the front of the mech's jaw. Millennia of being a forward fighter for the Autobots had him calculating instantly that the rock couldn't do a whole lot to him; his nature reached forward to show off the fact by plucking the stone easily from the air.

Dart's other foot found hold; somehow she managed to twist herself around and fling herself through the only spot available, right between his legs. The courier scrabbled, throwing her elbows towards the sky like a grouse struggling to take to the air as she managed to heave herself back on her feet and bolt back down the way she'd came. This time, she didn't turn to look to see if he was following, she merely assumed he was and focused on sprinting off quickly as possible, so that she could try to fling herself up the wall again and get the heck out of here.

_Whunk. _

Ungracefully, she landed hard on one knee, staring dumbfounded at the line wrapped around her chest, effectively pinning her left arm to her side. The line grew taunt, and she was yanked back, flying through the air to land sideways on the scrub with a metallic crash. Her chest clattered down onto the ground, dirt and sage shoved themselves into her open mouth and clogged up her filters. The courier gave a retching sound, coughing and choking as she pawed at her nose with her free hand, struggling to pull air back in again as her cooling systems shrieked a warning about being clogged. No kidding.

Dart decided right then and there that she officially hated anything having to do with cables for the rest of her life. Which might not be too much time, now that she had a second to dwell on it.

"I had her just fine!" someone shouted, running up.

"Obviously you didn't," was the instant retort. "She was still moving when I showed up."

"She's not moving now!"

"What, you want me to let her go?"

"Yeah, let her go!"

"Five credits says she'll just run off again."

"Ten says she won't."

A snort and the line slithered across her chest, slipped under her arm like the dry tail of a snake. Dart fought back against the pressure, but the restraint held fast-even tightened a bit. The Autobot knew exactly what he was doing. Every move she made was countered instantly by his, sometimes even before she made it. The frustration and anger she'd been feeling shot away to be replaced by hopeless, sinking fear. Two of them, one of her. Not good odds for anything. The yellow mech eyed her for a few seconds, then shrugged and instantly dismissed her as he flicked his hand. The line released, the magnetic counter clip on the end popping free.

"Fine, let's see what happens. You better have those five credits or I'm taking it out of your shiny paint."

Legs outstretched, the lanky courier merely sat on the ground, wheezed, and blinked between the two robots towering over her; mouth open, she was sucking air in, drawing it past her lips in short, sharp pants as her systems attempted to regulate themselves again and clear out the mud that had packed her airways with the mingling of coolant and red canyon dirt.

Sideswipe tapped his chin with his finger before he pointed out the obvious.

"Ooh, she's doing... nothing. Wow, look at her go. Pay up, bro."

It wasn't that the red mech cared about the money. It was just the fun of watching his brother's response to him getting a one up on him. Five credits was going to buy him jack squat here on Earth. In fact, they'd probably been trading the same credits back and forth for the last few years. Wasn't like they were going to find a bar or a vending machine down here for them to use; the closest thing was the Jiffy Lube on the corner of Seventh, and they'd been told that they weren't allowed to go there any more. Man, Prowl ruined all their fun. After the incident at the Portland Zoo, they'd been given a pretty short list of places they could go. Well, okay, they went to there anyway, but now they made completely sure that they weren't caught...

"Pay up," Sideswipe reiterated, as he held out his hand and poked his finger hard into his palm.

In answer, the yellow mech merely turned his head and opened his mouth in a bored gesture that resembled a wide yawn as he looped the line, twined it around the edge of his hand. Turning to Sideswipe as if he was about to say something, he unexpectedly flicked the cable out towards Dart's head, popping the magnetic clip on the end past her audios. It cracked, whip-like and harsh millimeters away from the side of her head.

Sound scruffed her to drag her from stupor, threw the courier back into the moment. The moment consisted of the fact that the yellow mech now had his rifle in his left hand and was aiming it lazily between her eyes. One pass of her main pump thudded against her chest as she stared down the dark, metallic barrel, and then she scrambled desperately to her feet. A few seconds later, there was only scattered dust and stone chips swirling back against the wind.

Sunstreaker glanced down as the dirt settled in whorls against his glossy paint, leaving long streaks of grit and bits of torn grass against his plating. He lifted his leg and tipped his foot forward, scrubbing the edge of it against a scraggly Scotch Broom bush.

"Well, see. There she goes. Just like I told you. You owe me. Fork it over, scragger."

Sideswipe swung his head and glared at Sunstreaker.

"Know what? That's what I call cheating."

"Yeah, well, I'm not you. She ran off. Quit whining and pay up. You lose."

"Aw, shut it."

"Shut it?"

"Yeah, like as in a door, and your head."

"Whatever, manifold muncher." Sunstreaker replied as he looped the line he'd used a few seconds ago between his fingers, drawing it back and forth before he let it fall into a loose circle, cradled in his fingers. "You going to get her, or do I need to show you how again?"

A rush of rocket fuel ignited from Sideswipe's rocket pack into two blaring jets of blue and yellow. "Oh, you just want to get her," the red mech taunted as his grin slapped itself back across his face. He kicked off with one black foot, somersaulted into the air and hung, the heat from his rockets scorching the sage underneath him. Greasy smoke wisped up, smelling of burnt lemons and woody pith. "What, four million years or so under a volcano and you're that desperate?"

Sunstreaker tilted his head, narrowed his optics. "I'd have to be dead to be that desperate. Sorry, I don't do Decepticons. That's your thing. Better get her before she outruns you and your blocky bumper."

Sideswipe curled his fingers and cheerfully offered up the same gesture to his brother that Dart had been thinking of giving him earlier, right before he rocketed off down after her.

* * *

A flare of heel-jets lifted Starscream into the air and swept him above the fading bursts of stray rifle fire. Wings spread, he hovered and then surveyed the scene around him, warily keeping an eye on the final skirmishes below. His fingers pressed to the side of his wounded chest; rivulets of fluid slipped out between the clench of his fingers, and a low hiss poured out of his lips as he glared at his leader. 

_Of course it was a trap, and of course I knew it was, but no, Megatron never seems to ask my opinion on anything, ever. He knows I am nearly always right..._

Even so, Starscream had fully expected that they would destroy the Autobots at first, confined as they were against the Decepticon's superior weapon-power and numbers. A cold grin had pulled his lips into back into rictus as he ducked behind his sheltering pillar of rock and let the battle rage around him. Well, until he'd realized what the Autobots had been planning.

Prowl's black and white form had appeared on the edge of the rift, his doors flicking slightly back and forth as he turned his gaze from one end of the battle to the other. There was no call from the Autobot, no orders that were barked out or roared across the distance, but behind him appeared the others in a cloud of thin, dry dust. Prime and Prowl exchanged one quick nod, and then half of the arriving Autobots fired down from edge of the canyon wall, while the other half bounded down into the end of the canyon and leapt into the fray.

Smoke, reeking of electrical damage and burned metal, met his sensors as he peered around one final time. Around him, the battered Decepticons struggled, he although he noticed a few of them didn't move. He shrugged, winced as the motion pulled and stretched the crisped wires within.

Survival of the smartest. Those smart enough to get under cover lived, those that didn't ended up slagged into unrecognizable and ultimately unfunctional bits.

Skywarp staggered into the air. Trailing smoke and a haze of fuel, the black and lavender aircraft was obviously badly injured; his flaps could barely tug him out of the way of a lazily spinning projectile before it exploded and sent his nose tipping sharply back towards the ground. Soundwave appeared at Megatron's side, Rumble and Frenzy trailing behind him. Laserbeak dangled limply from the blue mech's hand, on his shoulder, Buzzsaw screeched and snapped fitfully at his damaged wing.

Starscream turned his head from side to side as Optimus lifted his gun and aimed it once more at Megatron. Scooting a bit in the air, he managed to put the bulk of Megatron between himself and the Autobot leader's weapon. Rumble immediately followed suit, but it was to crunch himself behind Starscream as well. Two shields were better than one, no doubt about that.

"Well, _now_ what?" Starscream shrilled, as the Decepticon leader turned to confer quickly with Soundwave, staring down at the Autobots below them. His attention was obviously elsewhere, so Starscream's voice continued on, rising higher and higher in a nasally whine. "They have the upper hand, we're losing, they pinned us down there, they knew we were going to look for fuel at this idiotic place. If I was leading—"

Megatron swivelled in mid air, the barrel of the fusion cannon causing Starscream to swallow back his words. Narrowing his optics, the grey mech indicated with a curl of his lip and a twitch of his fingers that he had heard perfectly every word Starscream had said. Instantly, Starscream raised his hands as if to protect his face.

"If you were leading, you would be the first to die," Megatron told him, with an amused laugh. Rumble veered a bit to the side, and Megatron allowed himself one final chuckle before he turned and swung the cannon to fire off a volley of shots back towards Prime that were full of anger, if not aim.

"Decepticons, retreat!" he ordered his troops.

Rattled by the fact that he'd narrowly missed getting new cockpit glass via cannon fire, Starscream stumbled back in the air, and then attempted to regain his composure through sarcasm.

"How unexpected..." he muttered, tapping his finger against the side of his chin. "Not."

Megatron turned his head over his shoulder and glared at Starscream. Quickly, the air commander dropped his hand back to his side and decided that it was one of those moments to say something so obvious that even Megatron couldn't dispute the truth in his statement...

Clamor and din rushed into his audios; and thus Starscream's witty, intelligent remark was completely forgotten. Mouth open, wings stiff, he brought his hands up to his head to smother the wailing feedback. The sound ground audile teeth through against his comm-link; the low moan built to an octave shattering shriek that would have been more fitting out on some lonely tundra, hunting caribou and sniffing at stumps, or even chained in a filthy junkyard, surrounded by rusting linked fence and barbed wire.

Hidden in the rocky shadows of the canyon, Ravage's black head snapped around. His ears flicked forward; silently, he lifted one forepaw and leaned his weight over his haunches, listening intently. Around the edges of his feet, the dry dirt scalloped up and left soft, delicate feathers of crushed sage around his metal toes.

The howl reverberating around the cat's audio receptors cut off with an abrupt yelp.

One second passed, then another. Yellow optics slitted thoughtfully, he lowered his front paw back to the ground. Metal flanks curled back on themselves in a sinuous loop, and then there was only sand-scoured bare rock and stone where the cat had once stood.

Starscream was silent, staring down the barrel of the fusion cannon.

"I said you will leave her," Megatron reiterated once more, watching as Starscream's fists clenched against his sides. "As you know so well, my troops are of no use to me if they cannot get out of a situation on their own." Megatron ordered. "I gave the order to retreat, and obviously, she didn't listen to it."

Starscream snarled, his wings flaring out behind him. A furious burn of yellow lit up his heels as he hovered stiffly over the rocky outcrop.

"I will not..."

"You will not what? Retreat? Have you suddenly discovered a wellspring of bravery? No, wait, I know, you will not... die?" Megatron asked him slowly, scoffing at Starscream's tensely raised gun. "If you disobey me, I'll shoot you and you will, Starscream. Because we both know that you have one shot right now, and after that, I'll rend you limb from limb and have each piece of you dipped in bronze just so I can dump you in front of a skyscraper and have the humans call you modern art. I would very much like to destroy you. My day has gone rather poorly so far - your death would cheer me up greatly. Here it is, plain and simple, in terms even you can understand. Leave her behind or face me. Decide."

"As you... command, Megatron."

"Why, Starscream," the grey mech replied, pausing only long enough to bare his subordinate a mocking smile. "Wait, wait, how did you did you put it? Oh yes. It was - how unexpected. Not."

* * *

"Wonder what's going on? They having a heart to heart conversation right now or something?" Cliffjumper asked, shading his optics to get a better view of the Decepticons gesturing at each other in the sky. 

Optimus Prime shook his head and rubbed his faceplate. A stray bit of goo from Megatron's insides streaked pink across his face and shimmered briefly before it dried. "I don't know. However, let's give them a little incentive to take their discussion far away from here, and as quickly as possible. Autobots! Fire!"

The barrage caught the Decepticons completely by surprise. Starscream cried out as a bolt caught him in the elbow, shattering the null-ray in half. Megatron glared down at Prime and the fingers on his left hand clenched into a fist as the rest of the Decepticons flew by them. Only Soundwave waited, impassive as he ever was. Starscream's optics seethed red as they met Megatron's for one final time. Then the jet mech transformed and shot across the sky with a shriek, overtaking the other Decepticons easily as they headed back towards base.

* * *

"She ran into my hand." 

Standing over the tangled black and grey heap of limb and leg that lay inert at Sideswipe's feet, criss-crossed with cables; Prowl eyed first the she that Sideswipe was referring to, then let his gaze slide back along the obvious drag trail that wound back through the crumbling shale and dry soil of the canyon. Sideswipe didn't bother to look behind him as he shifted his weight, let his knee bend as he flipped the end of the cable back and forth between his fingers. Casually, he slapped the edge of it against his palm, tapping out a cheerful rhythm. Behind him, Sunstreaker stood, toe pointed to the ground, slouching, his boredom apparent as he flicked the small panel on his wrist open and shut, poking at the empty spool within.

Prowl turned his observations back to the unconscious robot. "Ran into your hand..." he echoed. Slowly, the black and white mech pursed his lips and allowed a tiny draft of air drift out of the corner of his mouth.

"Okay, she ran into my fist. However, I'd like to say for the record that it was completely her own fault. I punched right, she dodged right. I mean, how hard is it to dodge left? But I didn't expect that I'd flatten her out in one hit," he said, offering up a mournful glance towards his fist. Prowl didn't think for one moment that the sad little look was had anything to do with the Decepticon. Well, except for the fact he had no doubt that she hadn't put up the sort of fight that Sideswipe wanted - he adored a good scrap. The red mech lifted his shoulders and shrugged. "Besides, the last girl the Decepticons had around here was a flipping ninja, for crying out loud!"

A quick memory of Nightbird - the experimental robot that the Decepticons had stolen from the humans - ran through Prowl's head. That had been a mess, that whole bit. Not to mention the amount of publicity that he could have done without. Glancing down at the Decepticon, he let his gaze pause briefly on her before once again regarding Sideswipe. "Well, yes. I don't see how you could quite mistake the two, though."

"She's black," the mech pointed out helpfully, spreading his hands as wide as his smile. "All ninjas are black, right?"

Prowl felt his processors grumble sourly at that line of logic. By that theory, all funeral processions here on Earth were made up of ninjas. Rather than dignify Sideswipe's excuse with any sort of explanation, the tactician merely canted his chin and let the shadow of his chevron fall across his brow as he turned the conversation back into sensibility.

"So, I'm assuming she ran into your hand... wait, was that before or after you two decided to toss her around."

"Before, of course... wait, I'm changing that to after–"

"She's down," Sunstreaker interrupted his brother, interjecting himself into the conversation with a terse scowl. As he moved forward, his shoulder drew even with Sideswipe's; the presence of each twin magnified them into the sort of contained, restless power of a pair of nomadic bachelor lions, ready to challenge anyone at the first opportunity. Staring right at Prowl, Sunstreaker reached out his foot to prod sharply into the thin grey flank; the girl's weight was shoved onto her hip. "Who cares how, anyway? You wouldn't be concerned about how we dealt with it if it was Megatron. So she's a girl. So what? Who cares? She's a Decepticon."

Prowl's doors rose stiffly behind him, but before he could respond to that remark, there was the rumble of engines and all three mechs glanced over in time to see Ironhide and Ratchet driving up. The medic transformed first and peered over at Prowl, then Ironhide's tires shifted in the dirt once or twice before his cogs and rotors stiffly ground out his own change from van to blocky, solid robot.

"Ironhide, Ratchet," Prowl acknowledged before asking the red and white medic his next question. "What's our damage status?"

Ratchet blew air out of his intakes in a series of short puffs. His brows were knitted together in obvious frustration.

"Not good. Not good at all. Just what I needed. Do you realize I finally got the bay clear yesterday? Yesterday! Far be it from me to complain," he grumbled; this remark made Ironhide grin and rest his hands on his hips. Ratchet threw a sidelong glance in challenge, however, by then the red mech had already lifted his gaze up to the sky, ostensibly to look for any Decepticons that might have been regrouping and doubling back. "But, I was thinking that I was going to get a bit of a break from having my hand up to the wrist in someone's internals. Ha. No, of course not, not at all. I never ever get a break."

Patiently, the black and white mech shifted his weight over his left foot and nodded. It was always best to let Ratchet continue on in his own good time; obviously, the injuries were mostly minor, otherwise the medic would have been more terse and less talkative. "Ah. How long do you think it will be before everyone's completely up on full function again?"

"A few days at most. The worst of it is fabricating the parts to cover all the structural damage."

Ironhide's gaze wandered again as the medic continued to run down his list of problems, and then it wandered down to where Sideswipe's foot was inching forward on a path towards his captive's head. He cleared his throat, and the Lamborghini mech casually shifted his weight and rocked back on his heels.

"Well, that makes three of them we've captured this time," Ironhide said. "Thundercracker's back there with Prime and the others, we've got them under wraps and we'll haul them back... as is what's his nuts and bolts, the camera guy..."

"Reflector."

Ironhide lifted his hand and scratched his head, his fingers rasping hard against the side of his curved helmet. "I always forget his name, yeah, thanks Prowl. Not like he shows up very often on the front lines, and then the little lady here. Three of them, none of us. Always appreciate those odds."

"Little lady?" Ratchet's head swung around as his attention was pulled off of his diatribe and onto something interesting. "That's the Decepticon you'd mentioned to Prime, then, Ironhide?"

"Well, unless there's a female Autobot I don't know about. Something you been hiding from us?"

"Trust me, if there was one around here, I sure as hell wouldn't tell anyone that uses these two to stop her." Ratchet muttered. Pushing himself past Prowl, he stomped over to peer critically down at the girl lying in a tangle of limb and line, and then knelt quickly down beside her. Slick blue stains left a greasy, shimmering film around her nose and smeared across her chin; however, that didn't bother him as much as the noise she was making.

Frowning to himself, Ratchet's red, wide fingers felt their way under the girl's grey jaw. The silvery stripes of cable wound around tightly around her throat and were wedged under the back of her helmet; her chin was drawn and pressed clumsily into her chest.

"Careful there, Doc - she bites," Ironhide warned him. "By the way, I'm not joking about that."

Ratchet squinted up, nodded, but there was no hesitation in the medic as he loosened the stranglehold that the cables had. Quickly, he tipped her head forward to allow some of the fluid and dirt in her intakes to drain out. A sluggish trail of muddy liquid crept out of her nose; the medic grumbled softly to himself as he shifted the Decepticon from her back onto her flank and settled her down with her head lower than her shoulders.

"Hmmmph, I'm surprised about this one, Prowl," he grunted.

"I thought you might find the situation interesting," the black and white mech replied, turning to pass a quick glance over the sky again.

"Interesting... well, that's a mighty Prowl way to put things. Although, I admit this one has me a bit baffled. Why the heck would the Decepticons bring on someone like this down here, as opposed to someone who can take dish out and take a beating?"

"I'm still working on that answer."

"Yeah, figuring that out will be a good workout for the old logic circuits, won't it? Just don't get stuck in any data loops, I'm running out of relay patches to repair you, and frankly–."

Over the comm-line, Prime's orders crackled out. Immediately drawn back into task, it took a few minutes for Prowl to deal with them, and sort things out. Sentries posted, check, the wounded being carried back to base... Reflector and Thundercracker transported along, yes, the north cell bay had been checked yesterday and all systems were prepared for prisoners. It took him a moment to realize Ratchet had continued talking to him, even during his discussion with Prime.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

Ratchet threw a thumb over his shoulder to indicate Sideswipe and Sunstreaker again.

"You weren't listening? I was saying I don't think whoever rebuilt this girl ever expected her to be on the front line fighting the wonder twins, here. Well... either that or they were a complete idiot, which might not be far off either."

"I could have told you that," Sideswipe replied, butting into the conversation as he leaned over Ratchet's shoulder. "Hey, does this make me a medic?"

"No," Ratchet said, with an ugly glare, thrusting a hand upwards to shove the red mech back. "It makes you what you always are, a pain in my skidplate. I don't see that changing any time soon, no matter how many girls you punch in the head. Now get out of my light, I can't see what I'm doing. Back up!"

Grinning, Sideswipe stepped back a pace. Ratchet lifted the girl up slightly again and whacked the flat of his hand sharply under the edge of her spoiler, rattling her plating with the force of the blow. "Come on, let's get that all out of there," he encouraged quietly. Thoughts of faction were far from his mind; there was no Autobot or Decepticon, ally or enemy. Instead, there was only the bright sun beating down on him from the top of the canyon, throwing his shadow in sharp relief over the body in front of him, and the raspy, sucking sound of a mech with systems in distress. One more quick strike of the heel of his palm, and the medic was rewarded with a high-pitched whistle.

With a convulsive cough that threw out her legs and sent her bonds quivering taunt, the Decepticon blew a chunk of half-caked mud out of her intakes.

"Oh yuck, what is that, and why is it on my foot?"

"You don't back up when I tell you, you deserve far worse," Ratchet growled. Ducking his head, he shifted himself and inclined his audios over the girl's intakes to assure himself that her cooling systems were clear - quickly, he made a note to himself, that he might need to scope her later to make sure that the secondary filtration didn't clog and fail. He knew a system that relied way too much on atmospheric control when he saw it.

"Everyone tells me I deserve far worse," Sideswipe replied, angling his leg and wiping the sludge oozing down his calf on a nearby tuft of grass.

"Maybe that's a hint?" Ratchet snapped.

"Everyone tells me that I don't listen to those, either."

"You don't listen to anything."

"We haulin' her back with us, then?" Ironhide asked, motioning down.

Prowl nodded. "Affirmative. Ratchet?"

"She's not going to get up any time soon, if that's what you're asking. I wouldn't expect her to be back on line for at least six hours until her systems re-calibrate. I've found structural damage, but it's superficial... well, as long as you don't let these two maniacs don't lash her behind them and drag her around the walls of Troy a few more times on the way back."

"We didn't drag her over any walls on the way in."

"Would have if we could have found any, just to shut her up. Damn thing sounded like a turbo-hound with a tail caught in the door," Sunstreaker muttered.

Ratchet snorted out another short blast as he shot a glare over his shoulder. Gruff and short, his voice snapped out his reply to the two robots behind him "Rhetoric escapes you two, that's for sure. It's classical literature," he remarked.

"Classical literature for who?"

Exasperated, Ratchet managed to do a good enough optic roll to encompass both brothers within it.

"For those of us who actually read."

"Hey, I read."

"Those of us who read something other than auto magazines and comic books."

"Spiderman cracks me up," Sideswipe replied. "The guy's got a great sense of humor."

"As long as she stays off line until we get her into the cell-bay," Prowl nodded. "What with Thundercracker and Reflector captured as well, I don't feel like taking extra chances that Megatron will send his troops back for them."

"Megatron, come back after he's stuck his tail between his legs and yelled retreat? Aw, Prowl, you're getting a sense of humor after all, aren't you?"

Prowl merely shrugged. "No, no. It's just that it's better to be prepared for odd contingencies then to be surprised by them." He scanned the sky again, shaded his optics with the flat of his hand as his sensors quartered the horizon, then turned. "Take her in. This time, I'd like you to carry her, and not to drag her all the way back into Oregon."

Sunstreaker looked disdainfully down. "I'm no work-truck. You have two mechs here who are vans. Get Ironhide or Ratchet to carry her back."

Ironhide's brow-ridge raised. "Now wait a minute here. I'm so not stuffing a Decepticon in my—"

Prowl cleared his throat.

"No problem, Prowl," Sideswipe interjected, looping the line back around his hand and drawing it taunt once again. "I'll take her in. Besides, I admit it... I did most of the work bringing her down."

"Yeah, right," the yellow mech snorted. "You did most of the work? I distinctly remember me having to trip her again, you didn't catch up with her on your own."

"Go suck your diodes," Sideswipe replied, taking a playful swing at the yellow Autobot. "Hey, is that a scratch in your paint I see?"

Sunstreaker's hand shot out and wrapped around his brother's wrist. Sideswipe turned and pushed against im, setting his feet and shoving back against Sunstreaker, attempting to force the yellow mech off balance. Sunstreaker merely curled his lip and braced himself; Sideswipe bent, and twisted from the hips, ducking and managing to get leverage behind his brother's knee with his own. The yellow mech's leg sagged at the pressure placed behind the joint, but he struggled back up and wrapped his arm around Sideswipe's throat. Sideswipe grinned widely as Sunstreaker's face appeared over his own, and the yellow mech's optics narrowed briefly before he offered up a faint, dry grin in return.

"Sideswipe, Sunstreaker!"

The two brothers stopped in mid-scuffle.

"Enough. Take her back, put her into the empty bay in the left wing. Tell Bumblebee when you see him, that I want Thundercracker and Reflector in there too, but separate them out, out of voice range, if possible. If she comes to while you're doing it, use only minimal force."

"That means, you don't punch her in the head again," Ratchet explained carefully.

"Excuse me? You know what, if she comes to and goes after me, I'm thinking I get to kick her in the head a few times in the head to make sure she stays down." The red Autobot stared down at the crumpled form of the black and grey Decepticon, pulled the cable line completely through his fingers as he bent down to grab the girl. A fling of his hand, and he slung the trussed robot into the air and over his shoulder. The brim of her helmet cracked into his chest-plate with a resounding bang. Across her shoulders, the thin black strip of metal shuddered once as if to offer up a voiceless complaint before it slumped forward and went still.

A slight frown pinned down the corner of Prowl's lips.

"Before you go, let me reiterate something to you, Sideswipe. Just so there's no opportunity for confusion over my orders. Minimal force. You know what minimal force means, restrain her, but don't harm her. In other words, do not kick in the head if she comes back on line."

"How about punching?"

"You heard Ratchet as well. That will not be necessary."

"Yeah, I know. But fun never is."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. Hey, we've got it, Prowl - right, bro?"


	6. Chapter 6

The soft blue radiance of the control pad reflected with a ghostly glow off of Prowl's white paint. Behind him, Ironhide and Wheeljack waited, the white, green and red mech fiddling with a few dials on the console in front of him.

Behind the three robots, burnt orange metal melded into bubbles of Dacite; silica rich volcanic rock. When humans tended to think of lava, their minds always went back to the liquid fans that were spit out of the Hawaiian volcanos, rising up from within the earth's crust and spraying in elegant, ruddy fountains. No, the Cascades were a different sort of volcano. They weren't created when the Pacific Plate moved northwest over a tiny hot spot, a weak area in the earth's crust... instead, they were at the zones where the tectonic plates converged, and their cones were created predominantly from pyroclastic debris.

Here in the depths of the Autobot base, the huge ship had smashed into the side of St. Hilary, impacted with such force it was amazing that any of her crew had survived.

During some late night discussions, Prowl had pointed out time and time again as to what had saved those that had pulled through the experience of being slammed out of space to crash down on Earth; a combination of luck and engineering. Engineering, in that the bridge was a newer design and that the bridge crew were not placed on the nose of the Autobot shuttle; instead, it had been ensconced within the ship, protecting the main crew (and unfortunately, the boarding Decepticons as well) from the crash.

Ironhide gave more credit to Prime. A desperate leap for the controls had enabled him to fire the jets and change the trajectory just enough to change the impact vector. Plating shredded as the Ark embedded itself within the mountainside and made sure that the Autobot's transport would never fly again.

Over the years, the surviving Ark crew had cannibalized chunks of the ship's plating for a thousand needed uses, scavenging large slabs of metal off the inner rooms to create everything from tables and chairs to repair patches for their own hides. Sometimes, the now revealed stone was then smoothed out to create sleek walls, as if the mechs within were trying to shape the earth back into something familiar.

Down here in the lower levels in what had once been the sleek, lower hull of the spacecraft, it was a cell bay, and no such care had been taken. Rough chunks of pumice and basalt were interspersed by rusting panels that had been reinforced into the crumbling back wall with rivets and girders. Somewhere in the distance echoed the faint sound of water dripping, a constant clicking noise that was as regular as the second hands passing the time on a hall clock.

"Should really get that blocked off," Ironhide mentioned, inclining his head to indicate the leak.

"The water?"

"Yeah. Want I should send Grapple down here to take a look at it?"

"I already called him down to survey it."

"When did you do that?"

"A few weeks ago."

"What did he say?"

"It's a shunt from an old lava tube that's got a rocked over entrance over on the southwest flank of the mountain."

"Beachcomber agree with that assessment?"

"He did. Mentioned that in the long run we shouldn't attempt to touch it, and that it would be what was going to keep our geothermal collectors going down here."

"It's not affectin' the power lines?"

"No, no. It's not anywhere near the lines or any of the wall supports. Grapple verified that twice, but he's still planning on trenching down and diverting it a bit, to make sure it suddenly doesn't change path and decide to cause some more damage."

"When's he goin' to do that?"

"When Beachcomber finishes his studies and makes sure that the construction project won't cause problems with the ecosystems down here."

"Ah. Great. Last time that happened I had a heck of a mess to clean up in my quarters."

Prowl's doors lifted and accented up a empathic nod. "Oh, the ground squirrels... yes, I remember. We did manage to trap them all and relocate them after they were done hibernating, though."

Wheeljack looked up at them. "No kidding. Nests everywhere, and I was shaking dried grass out of half of the things on my workbench for a few months, remember? But, Prowl... speaking of fixes, I think I have things settled out and adjusted correctly. The field's working perfectly," Wheeljack said, the flat components on either side of his head blinking brightly in time to his spoken words. "No problems with it at all, this time."

"Yet," Ironhide drawled.

Shuffling his feet underneath his rolling chair, Wheeljack glanced up at Ironhide. Even though his face was covered partially from his nose to his chin by a solid series of interlocking rings that created a sturdy plate, he still managed to convey up an air of injured hurt. Sagging back, he dragged his heels along the floor; a gusting sigh escaped him. "That wasn't my fault, that last one. I mean, I sat and calculated everything... twice even! How was I to realize that there would be that sort of power spike when I switched the polarity of the field back twice in rapid succession? That hadn't come up in any of the earlier trials. "

"You're the darn scientist," Ironhide reminded him.

"No, I'm an inventor. Perceptor's the scientist. He's got the theories of space and time all figured out, me, well, I just try to make things easier on all of us."

Ironhide politely stifled a cough behind his hand.

"What about the Dinobots?" Wheeljack repeated, puzzled.

"Huh, oh, nothin' important," the old mech replied with a soft, rolling chuckle as he strove to make a graceful subject change. "Hey, Prowl?"

"Yes?"

Jerking his thumb lightly over his shoulder, Ironhide indicated the hallway that led into the cell-bay.

"You figured where she showed up from yet?"

"The more things I find, the more they point to the fact that she was rebuilt here."

"That's good," Ironhide replied.

"Uh, that's good? I mean, they're dragging more and more Decepticons out of cold storage, and that's good? First the Combaticons, now her? They're going to wear us down in numbers, if we're not careful. Is that what it is, do you think? Just keep throwing themselves at us?"

"Numbers didn't work during the siege on Iacon," Ironhide replied.

"They kept us pretty pinned down, though."

"Actually, in Iacon, it was the lack of available fuel that kept us pinned more than their actions," Prowl replied, tapping his finger lightly along the console in front of Wheeljack. "The tunnels were free and clear, and they couldn't guard them all. We didn't have the resources, of course, but neither did they, they never overran us, remember?"

"Yeah, but here, they don't have to worry about resources as much, that's for sure. All Meggy has to do is go down and rip up a gas station or two. But seriously, where are they finding these guys? Hmm... while I'm thinkin' about that, when's it our turn for some reinforcements so we can go take a nice long vacation?"

"Bumblebee was able to discover that Starscream brought the Combaticons back from Cybertron over the Space Bridge in downloaded personality disks, reformatted them here on Earth. From what I understand, they had a bit of a falling out with Megatron a while back, though. It doesn't surprise me; you don't download and store personalities unless they've done something very serious when the enforcers finally catch up to them."

"Must have been pretty serious if they stored them."

"Yes. I'm assuming that was the case, especially if he got them out of the facility I think he did. That was in the first section of territory Shockwave was given to stand over, and he or the other Decepticons didn't bother to take them out, that should tell you something, right there."

"Tells me they want to do anythin' to get the upper hand on us, even if includes shooting themselves in the foot. You think she's someone he picked up with that bunch, then, that he snatched up a handful of disks and has them stored in his desk, lookin' for spare bodies to toss them into? Wait, let me guess... thieves, terrorists... hmm, the way that girl was fightin', I have to say I'm bettin' Starscream accidentally grabbed that case of hit and run insurance fraud instead of that mass murderer he was hopin' for."

"I wouldn't take you up on that bet."

"You mean they did have..."

"Insurance fraud?" Prowl asked. "Well, yes, it was common, and we ran into it more and more after the war started. A lot of mechs would damage their own buildings and call it war related in an effort to get their businesses paid for out of city funds... but... no, that's not what I was referring to. The idea that it wasn't perhaps what he expected, that's what I agree with."

"Really?"

"I do. Actually, I don't know if she came from where the Combaticons did at all. If she had, why would he wait until now before letting her loose; in fact, if that's the case, why didn't he fit her into the team while he was building them? Actually, Ratchet's verification on something that I myself had encountered with that bit of knife you let me have tells me I'm actually on a closer track. The Combaticons managed to get back to Cybertron and get the Decepticons to reinforce them better for combat troop movement. She hasn't."

"Okay... and this means what?"

"Her reactivation hasn't been that long. A few months of Earth time, I suppose." Slowly, Prowl's doors lifted and fell, the hinges creaking out his quiet interest. "They haven't got the Space Bridge operational in six months... it means he's either been holding onto a handful of disks all this time, or... she's not from the same place they are."

"Oh, now you've lost me."

"When we came down, we had support crew, of course. Unfortunately, most of them..."

The red mech's face went flat. Gruffly, as if to cover up some other emotion, he lifted his shoulder and crossed his arms, letting his fingers fall onto his plating with a solid thunk. "Yeah."

"The Decepticons had support crew as well. Ratchet pointed out to me what she looks like to him, system wise. The Bridgeway."

"Well, her legs are long enough to replace a suspension bracket," Ironhide laughed, then sobered. "Wait, wait... I remember. Well, well, well, hang on, I think you've got it, Prowl. You know, when she and I were going toe to toe at the beach? I asked her where she had come from, and she said Westlynd. I've been turning that through my head a bit, wondering, but when you said the Bridgeway, it jumped out and grabbed my by the processor. Westlynd was that little area over there by the 'Way where that data-courier business was located - can't remember the name, I'm afraid, might want to ask Bluestreak about it. He used to be involved in that line of work, before... things, poor fella. I remember Prime hired on a few off and on to scurry some messages back and forth a few times - they were darn good at getting through the blockades... well, before what happened down there."

Prowl remembered. You didn't ever forget things like that. "Courier. Support crew, then. There we go, that's the logical explanation."

"But why is that good?" Wheeljack asked, steering back to his earlier question.

"Because the Decepticons - like us - had a limited amount of support crew, and most support crew are not seasoned fighters. Even if they've found a few of them, it would mean that they haven't reopened the bridge between here and Cybertron."

"That is good."

"The less Decepticreeps, the better, I always say."

* * *

Consciousness nuzzled its way back into a mind that didn't want to deal with it right now. The mind pointed out that it was perfectly happy where it was, and pulled a mental comforter over its head to attempt to ignore the persistent urge now forcing itself up neural pathways into her brain.

_Five more minutes... _

She liked where she was, she was comfortable; it was that half-light of early morning and too early for her to rise. Besides, her alarm hadn't buzzed out a shrill complaint and muttered about how she was going to be late and she needed to get up now. Now. Not in ten more minutes. Not even in five more minutes. Now.

Taste in her mouth, the acid bitterness of over-brewed black coffee.

A slow, meandering trickle followed that awful flavor; a tickle that took long, agonizing minutes to meander a lazy path down her throat. It continued down until it found a place to pool within her, and then something surged inside of her chest, followed by a burst of intense heat. Blowing and snorting, she managed to hiss a long stream of air out of her mouth; this was instantly followed by her dry, wheezing cough. With a final hacking groan, she stretched out her neck along the floor, and was rewarded with comforting coolness under her cheek. For a long moment, she just lay there, feeling the pressure reveal that she was half curled in a

A smell sidled into her olfactory sensors.

_What... what is that? I know that smell... ew, why does the floor smell like rotten eggs? _

Other scents followed now that they knew she was awake. It was like they decided that they'd had enough waiting and had to impatiently barge in. None of them seemed interested in patiently waiting their turn to cycle through the revolving door of her olfactory sensors. Now they bounded forward, warring with each other; the sharp sweetness that her mind now correlated with Cybertronian metals and alloy, a dry, dusty, crumbling scent that carried a smoky tang with it; reminiscent of briquettes that had been forgotten for years in a rusting barbecue. Stone? Some sort of stone... wait, sulphur, that's what it was. Not eggs, not even month old potato salad decaying in the back of the fridge, nope, this was -

_Volcanic ash._

Okay, that was weird. Where did that realization come from..? Wait, she remembered now. Mint leaves, the star-burst purple flowers quivering on the long stalks, brilliant color in the front flower beds catching her eye as she stepped out the door that Sunday morning. But they weren't purple, they were an odd shade of silver, and she had hesitated and it took her a few moments to realize what had dusted the jagged, soft leaves. Snow in Portland, sure. In March? Fairly unlikely, and she had glanced over her shoulder to where St. Hilary was covered by clouds, but hadn't seen a thing.

They had talked about it on the news that night, though, and snippets of the telecast broke into her thoughts with urgency. _Light dusting of ash._ _Don't drive if you don't have to. _

Pervasive, destructive... the tiny grey particles were absolute murder to engines and air filters. Close windows, go slow, stir up as little as possible, garage your car. Plane traffic had been diverted, and the ash cloud watched with scrutiny until it was picked up by the weather patterns and tossed to the east. Reaching down, she'd brushed it off the leaves, and it had been velvet soft, pinched between her fingertips - light and powdery as cornstarch.

_Huh. Wonder how you're not supposed to drive when you're the car. Bet they won't let me on the bus, even if I have tokens. Ow... I feel like I've been hit by a truck._

Obviously, her body agreed wholeheartedly with this thought. Sore and aching, she stretched out one leg, then the other, feeling something in her calf grind and pop with strain. Okay, both legs worked, she could bend her knee and her arms worked, fingers twitched... actually, the worst part right now was the right side of her jaw, but man, she needed to get up

Slowly, Dart struggled to lever her chest off the floor. It took her a few minutes of clatter before she managed to flatten her palms against the metal flooring underneath her and brace herself enough to heave herself onto her hands and knees. Pressure in her head focused on one spot behind her optics and dug in with the kindness of a crudely sharpened ice pick. Bracing herself on one trembling, locked elbow, she brought up her hand to her face and pressed the ball of her thumb firmly between her eyes. Instantly, she dropped her hand back to the floor, bracing herself awkwardly to try and fight against a wave of nausea and disorientation.

It didn't help.

The courier's narrow shoulders rolled back, her spoiler quivering miserably across them. Arching her mid-section, what emitted first from her throat was a gurgling whine of surprise, instantly followed by the sound of a large metal object realizing it actually did have the capability to retch. Valves in her chest snapped closed in a desperate attempt to keep the half-processed fuel where it belonged, and she managed to clamp her mouth-plates to gulp back nearly all of the mess. It took her a few minutes to recover from the racking spasms; then the lean robot slowly wiped her mouth with the back of her shaking hand, smearing a swatch of shimmering ooze across her fingers.

"Ick," she said after a long moment.

"Well, well... look who finally woke up and joined the party."

At the brassy growl of words, Dart winced. Her spoiler flattened against her shoulders, metal chattering and groaning as it broadcasted out her obvious distress. It took her three tries before she was able to roll onto her hip and stand on her feet - well, not that standing was a good word for what she was doing. It was more of an attempt to stay on her feet while her internals complained bitterly about her upright position.

"I'm up, I'm up... ow."

Thundercracker chuckled, leaning forward and draping his arms across his knees. The blue mech was Behind him, his wings stuck out to the sides, metal tips digging into the floor to support him. Comfortably resting his chin on his forearm, he peered out through the softly glowing bars, unable to hide his amusement lurking in his red optics as he watched the spectacle of the long-legged courier desperately attempting to stay vertical. It was the most interesting thing that had happened around here in six hours, that was for sure.

"Was that you making that lovely noise?" he asked her.

Dart blinked, and looked down at her hand, made a face. With a guilty smile, she wiped it across the locking panel on her hip. It left an ugly, greasy smear across the dusty metal. "No, no," she offered. "It was that other robot throwing up in the cell, honest."

Thundercracker raised a browplate, glancing around. Then, he chuckled. "Funny girl. Glad to see you've wandered back into the land of the living again. Now I have someone to talk to, at least. Reflector's still out of it - I don't know, I'm thinking he's shut down into semi-stasis. I don't know if they got all his parts or how badly he's damaged."

"All... his parts?" Dart parroted, glancing down. She was relieved to find herself fairly whole, if sore as heck. Actually, it was her jaw and the side of her head that hurt the most. Ow. Oh yeah, now she remembered a lot of things she didn't want to remember, mostly the fact that she'd run straight into the red robot's fist; literally head on, if she wanted to get technical. Her hand gingerly edged around the side of her jaw and she moved her mouth, hearing the hinge creak and argue with the movement. "Reflector?"

"Yeah. You know, camera guy, splits into three robots? No? Don't worry if you forgot about him, we forget about the guy a lot. It's one of those not-so-impressive team type things. I don't know, I merge into a gestalt and I damn well want to be a giant foot or a huge fist to smash stuff with. None of these 'I'm hauling a flashbulb out of my skidplate' moments. I'd want to work out my innermost tensions and all that."

"Er... um... can't blame you, I guess," Dart replied. Something in her mouth tasted strange. Poking a finger into her lips, she probed carefully around the back of her mouth to try and figure it out. Unable to feel anything, she turned her head from the mech to decide where she could politely spit out the taste, and was only rewarded with four bare walls. Well, three bare walls, two consisting of solid metal, the back wall a metal and rock combination. Between her and Thundercracker, there were bars that stabbed from floor to ceiling, encased in a metal strip both top and bottom. They pulsed softly with a luminescent pale green light.

She shifted her weight into a nervous sidestep. A light sniff echoed in her systems as ozone and electricity. "Where-"

"Where are we?" he interrupted with a grim, terse smile, throwing out his hand to show off the four walls as gracefully as a letter turner on a game show. "Welcome to paradise."

Another stabbing pain knocked on the back of her optic, and Dart stopped to lean her forehead into her hand. "If this is paradise, does it come with aspirin?"

"Aspirin?"

Thundercracker had no idea what she was talking about, but shrugged it off as another attempt at a joke. Hey, at least she was at least bantering through her misery; he had to admit this was better than last time he'd been captured. That had been four days of listening to Starscream whine, moan, curse and froth to him over and over again that it was all Thundercracker's fault he'd been captured in the first place. By the fourth day, he would have considered it a favor if one of the Autobots had reached over and snapped his neck linkage. It would have been an even bigger favor if they'd snapped Starscream's instead. If they'd given him that relief, he might actually have considered tossing his allegiances right then and there to the Autobots.

A second after he thought those thoughts, he found himself glancing over his shoulder and breathing a quick sigh. Not a good idea to even deliberate those ideas in jest; all he needed was Soundwave using his abilities to catch one mental whiff of those thoughts. Thundercracker knew from experience that if it happened, he'd be hauled before Megatron and encouraged to explain his traitorous mindset. Thank goodness for once for that whole captive bit, at least he didn't have to police his thoughts down here.

"I hope you don't think I'm serious about the paradise thing. Sorry, not even close. Actually, we're currently in the Ark."

"The... Ark?" Dart repeated.

"Well, specifically, the incarceration area of the Ark." When the girl's blue optics revealed a blank, baffled look, the mech lifted his shoulders and shrugged, rattling his wing flaps. "Want me to get even more specific? You've got Cell Twelve there, and it's about a meter wider than Cell Eleven here. I've been on your side before, but this time I guess I don't rate the extra room, since I'm not a girl. Feel free to wander around a bit and stretch."

"Extra space? Wait, what's the Ark? Is that a different repair bay?"

"Repair bay? Wait. You know about the Ark, right?"

"Noah?"

"Huh, you mean no one bothered to give you that basic rundown?" he said, scratching the side of his head as he gave her a speculative look. "Weren't you were briefed about the Ark when... no? Oh, Starscream. Right. That's why. Okay, well, here goes. The Ark is the Autobot base. You know, the one that's stuck in the side of the active volcano."

"We're in the Autobot base?" she gasped, her head snapping back to stare at the slab of metal above her. "We're prisoners? Their prisoners? The Autobot's prisoners?"

"Hey... you seem to have grasped the concept fairly well there, courier, and I'll mention that to 'Warp. He says you're about as bright as a carton of spent glow-tubes, but hey, he's wrong today, huh?" Laughing, Thundercracker settled himself back against the wall, his wings tenting out to either side of him. "So, you got it. Autobots. Prisoners. Us." The jet mech brought his hand up to smother a rather impressive yawn of boredom. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Comfortable?" she swallowed, staggering a few steps forward to lean her shoulder heavily against the cool wall. Her intakes pulled gulps of air down into her chest, and that uncomfortable burning sensation in her mid-section settled into a dull ache. Lifting her arm, she pressed the heel of her palm into her armpit, forcing her fingers to rub at the spot it hurt the most. It was an effort to make the discomfort loosen its taloned grip on her side; to press away sort of stitch you got from running and not cooling down properly. Well, that's all she had in her experience to relate it with - in reality, it was probably something like two crossed wires or a damaged fan belt.

"Here? Until when?" she asked finally, lifting her head.

"All depends. Chances are we'll sit here until they can't afford to keep us functional. That happens, we get traded back as bargaining chips for one reason or another; to stop one of Megatron's plans, or in return for human lives or some such." At her look of confusion, he shrugged. "You know, a prisoner trade."

"Wait, they'll give us back?"

"Not give. Trade. They don't have the facilities here for long term holding, and Optimus Prime won't let us starve or fall apart. Now, there is always the off chance that our guys will raid to get us back..." He trailed off to allow himself a grin at her hopeful glance. "Pretty unlikely, though. I'm a grunt, you're a messenger, and Reflector - wherever he ended up -is one third of a camera. Hey, don't worry, though. Eventually, Megatron will get tired of the fact he's down a wing-mech, or that Reflector can't function with one unit missing. So, there's a good chance that he'll accept or offer some trade that sends us back to base."

"How long do you think that's going to be?"

"Who knows. A day, week, a few months..."

"M_onths_?!" Dart's high pitched yelp tore out of her throat and cracked her voice. It wasn't flattering.

"Yeah, can't see them keeping us longer than that. They don't want to waste fuel on us, can't say I blame them."

"What happens... if they have us longer?"

"Geeze. Take it easy. They're Autobots. The main thing about them is that they honestly are pretty moral guys. Crud, why do you think they're losing the war? Sometimes I wonder, you know? Seriously, if they get to the point where they can't keep us any more, worst that would happen is they might download us and store our personalities, it's not a- "

Dart reared back away from the wall, throwing her head back. A frantic whine shot out of her throat as she back-stepped, her ankles crossing over each other. She trotted two full circuits of the cell before coming to a stop, her hands in front of her chest, fingers spread as if to block something as she circled on herself. Her jaws worked slowly, and he watched her left leg begin to shake and her weight shifted over onto her right hip.

"Hey," he said sharply, sitting up straight. "What is it?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine. I guess I'm fine. I think I'm fine, sure, I'm fine."

"Good. Okay, I thought for a second you were going to have a little freak-out on me and kick the bars or something equally stupid. Don't do it, they'll lay you flat on your back. Knock you out. Those are polarized energy bars."

"Energy bars?"

He nodded, pointing a finger towards the grid, wing flaps twitching in memory. "Polarized. They'll short you down and overload you, and it hurts like hell. You can't get through them. Don't touch them, don't kick them, and for your own sake, don't full-body them, you'll be sorry, really sorry. I speak from experience."

"So we can't get out? Can't you get out? You're a plane!"

"And that means what? I'm a plane. Sure, I'm a billion times better than you ground pounders, but doesn't do me a lot of good when they lock us out of our alt-modes, which they've already done. What was I supposed to do anyway, transform and fly through the side of a mountain? News flash, lady, I'm not Skywarp, I don't teleport. Besides, I'm sure they didn't forget to disarm all my ordnance when they tossed my skid in here. Autobots are a bit soft, but they're not stupid, no matter what Screamer seems to think."

"But, shouldn't we try to escape?"

Thundercracker held up his arms to reveal the lack of his laser rifles. "Try with what? Bad language?"

Squaring her shoulders, Dart let her hands drop to her sides before she clasped them behind her back as if to steady herself. "If you think it will help, I'm game."

The mech threw back his head and guffawed, the sound rolling out of his throat. "I'm so tempted to take you up on that, just to hear your idea of a foul mouth. But... nah, here's the truth of it. They've tossed us into holes inside of a blasted mountain. We touch those," he said, pointing at the softly glowing bars, "and we'll hurt worse. To top it off, the designers of this cell bay weren't nice enough to put any power conduits inside of the cells, so it's not like we're going to yank off a panel and pull out a wire or two. So, besides the bars, we have millions of tons of rock and metal. Any plans on getting through that without weapons?"

"I have my knives..." she replied, sweeping her hands around to display her wrists.

"Doubt it."

Dart made a fist and bent her elbow, concentrating. Nothing happened - no thin blade shot out of her wrist and past her fingertips. Shaking her hands out, she tried again, then again, then prodded her upper arm with disbelief.

"Told you. They've either pulled them or they've locked them down internally. Look, I've been taken prisoner a few times. Maybe too many times, now that I think about it – but who's counting? First time, you're like, get out, any way you can, but it's a waste of time and energy and you're more likely to get an overenthusiastic mech carrying out the order to stop you. So, I've learned that the best thing you can do is sit and wait. They won't hurt us too much, oh, sure, they might practice some psychological stuff on us, and that's easy to ignore. I'll tell you an easy way to do it; pretend it's Starscream running his mouth off about how he's going to be the new Decepticon leader and you can ignore anything. Oh, sorry, didn't mean to harp on him, just kidding, really. Sit and nod, tell them, yes, yes... whatever makes them happy."

"It... it doesn't work..." she stuttered, her fingers opening and closing spasmodically.

"What, pretending it's Starscream? Always worked for me."

"No no... it doesn't work, knives don't work. I just want out of here. I don't want to be in here."

"Well, that makes two of us, and... hey, what are you doing? You're not seriously thinking you can dig through that? You can't dig out using your fingers. It's a giant chunk of rock."

The courier didn't seem to be paying attention. Okay, maybe she was as dumb as Skywarp had suggested earlier. Thundercracker didn't really understand why Skywarp had dredged up such an obvious dislike of the girl. Not that he himself was too sure of many of the female Decepticons he'd been around, even if absence and time made them appear more attractive every day. They were aggressive, swaggering, hip-rolling mechs, the sort Thundercracker enjoyed under his arm with some high-grade energon, sure, but didn't like having to depend on to watch his wing in a firefight.

Ah, wait, that was it. Skywarp didn't find any useful reason to exist in anyone that didn't fly. To Thundercracker, a ground-pounder still had their place – they made it so the fliers didn't have to stop flying to take and hold a battle line. With Skywarp, it had nothing to do with practicality... no, he had a severe disdain for soldiers who couldn't take to the air. If you couldn't fly, you were no more than an Autobot, and adding that thought to the fact the girl turned into a car, it was a wonder the other mech hadn't dropped her on the way in.

_Starscream sure picked winners of alt-modes for all his 'projects'. Hmm, that's a good guess as to why he chose the Combaticon's like that, and hers too. The Silver Snake never wants to give anyone or anything the chance to rise above him, that's for sure. _

He glanced over to see the courier crouched at the back corner of the wall, her fingers digging at the stone. She paused, made a strange noise in her throat, then reared back and kicked at the wall twice. The blow of metal on stone retorted through the cell-bay, and she followed her kick up with more fitful attacks on the solid stone, seemingly encouraged by a tiny rain of pumice crumbles.

"What is it about my voice that keeps anyone from ever listening to me?" Thundercracker called out. "You can't dig out of here."

Turning her head to glance back at him, Dart offered the mech a flat expression; it glazed her optics. "Not in the box.." was all she muttered, before throwing herself forward to dig again, tossing rock bits and pebbles back behind her. They clattered off the bars, sending popping sparks down in a glowing trail. She didn't say anything else, not even when the soft sound of footsteps meandered down the hall.

"He's right. You can't dig your way out."

Dart spun in place.

"You!" she barked, the words exploding out of her throat as she crow-hopped into the air and stumbled backward, awkward and coltish, her heels clattering along the metal floor. "You're not Decepticons!"

"Nope." Ironhide replied. "Thank goodness."

Her gaze flicked across Prowl's.

The tactician watched her, saw the tips of her spoiler rising slowly across her shoulders. It inched upward, drew up as slowly as if it wasn't a strip of metal; instead, it was the wary lift of the ruff of an animal. She backed up a step.

The mech leveled his chin, locking his optics with her own.

What she was going to say in response to Ironhide's quip got lost in a rush of apprehension. Turning her head, she instinctively struggled to break that line of eye contact. She couldn't do it from where she was standing, her back against the cool expanse of metal and stone, and now a rumbling growl curled itself in her chest. Her chin ducked, her lip curled back, and she found herself pressed against the back wall, her posture both defensive and aggressive at the same time, as if she was a cornered dog with nowhere to retreat.

Prowl hesitated, a thoughtful look crossing his face, then lifted his left door and rolled his shoulders slightly. It was enough motion to dissolve his observation of the girl, and she immediately trotted into the far corner of the rough-hewn cell and put as much distance as possible between them, her growl tapering off until it was barely audible.

"_See what I mean, about her wantin' to bite someone's head off?"_ Ironhide offered over the comm-link between them.

"_I don't think that's all of it." _

An uneasy shrug lifted the red mech's shoulders.

"_Eh, maybe she thinks we're gonna do to her what the Decepts would do under the circumstances."_

"_Perhaps..." _

"_Sorry about this, sure wish Wheeljack had gotten all those fields fine-tuned before we had to put them down here. Half of them were being diverted to run stuff upstairs." _

"_No, no. It was right to divert the power relays. We needed it in the main bay. Wheeljack has it fixed now- the switch makes all the difference, we'll just move one of these two now. Reflector's fine where he is." _

"_Right. Which one you want to pull?" _

Prowl came instantly to a decision. He turned his head to regard Thundercracker. The mech was sitting, waiting patiently, a small, amused smile crossing his face. All right, this was his decision; Thundercracker's reactions were known, the girl's were not, and he could tell from her body language alone that to go physically in and move her from one place to another was going to set up the situation for confrontation. It wasn't that he didn't believe that they could easily overpower the girl and move her; it was the possibility of someone - the Decepticon included - ending up in the repair bay. With all the work Ratchet had to do right now, the last thing Prowl wanted to do was to give him more. Especially if the damage to any party could be easily and logically prevented in the first place.

Shaking his head, he turned to the red mech beside him.

"Move him up around the corner," he said quietly, indicating Thundercracker. "Leave her here."

* * *

_Three weeks. Three blasted weeks, and we've done nothing about this situation. We're down a wing-mech, and raiding is out of the question, and we're just sitting in the base like rats down a hole. If I was in charge of the Decepticons, we would have gone in and brought them back, we can't afford the loss of troopers right now. That was idiotic, the whole thing was idiotic. We need to go in and get her back before she tells them anything... she better not tell them anything. The last thing I need to add to this situation is - _

"Starscream?"

Starscream turned his head as his door slid aside to reveal a smaller mech standing in the blue-lit hallway. The darkness in his quarters made the smaller Decepticon squint and wait for his optics to adjust from the lights in the corridor. When the mech's sight finally settled, all he could see was the red pinpoints of Starscream's optics. _I don't think I've seen him out of his quarters for two weeks, _hethought._ Great. I always get stuck with being the message-bot when someone doesn't want to answer the com-link. It was nice having the courier around, I got hit a lot less. Someone else's turn to get smacked around for a change, that's what I've decided. _

"What do you want?"

Starscream spoke again, his voice unusually un-raspy or shrill as it echoed in the darkness. Actually, the mech sounded utterly void of any emotion at the moment, which was what made Swindle even more uneasy, if that was possible. The yellow mech shifted his weight over his toes, then settled back down, dropping his heels to the cool floor and taking some solace in the fact that there was a corner nearby. Even the mighty vaunted null-ray couldn't shoot around corners. At least he didn't think it could. Knowing his luck, he'd be the first time.

"Megatron requests -"

"Megatron requests?" There was a derisive burst of laughter, and Starscream strode forward into the light spilling into his room from the outside corridor. The expression on his face was so black that the other Decepticon stepped back a pace as the Air-Commander stalked towards him, his wings outstretched behind him. Swindle raised his hand in front of his chest, turning himself slightly to the side to have the least full-exposure to his main pump. Servos in Starscream's body cracked and whirred with tension, offering up the same sound as breaking ice. The Combaticon groaned to himself, and fully expected to be on the receiving end of some sort of weaponry in a few seconds. Oh well, maybe being knocked out for a few hours would afford him some peace. Repair bay was fairly quiet - he might even have some extra time to work on that deal he'd tossed out towards that small leader in Africa, get himself more in his bank account. Then he could retire somewhere, waited on hand and foot by human servants, wax in the morning, slightly chilled energon at night. Of course, realistically right now, Starscream would soon beat him to a pulp, take his notes, get his money, and then claim credit for everything right before Megatron took it all away from him and used it for himself. Now that was the most unhappy thought of the day, right there. All that work and time spent, and nothing back worth talking about.

Thinking of it that way, Swindle would rather be back in storage. At least there the only whim he'd been subjected to was whether or not the power kept steady.

"Geeze, Starscream, I'm only the messenger," the dusty yellow mech whined, the tone of his voice struggling to find the one of proper placation. "What am I supposed to tell him from you, I'll take it back..."

"Tell him he can go and -" Starscream's words trailed off into barely intelligible muttering.

"Uh-uh. You can go tell him that comment yourself, sorry," Swindle replied instantly, shaking his head. Right, if anyone thought he'd walk up to Megatron and relay that... nope, he'd rather take the shot from the null-ray, right in the head. "Look, boss," he said quickly, making sure that he emphasized the 'boss' part. Starscream loved it when you afforded him authority, any sort of authority, and Swindle had high marks when it came to dealing with difficult personalities. You got the most out of a deal that way. "I know you're upset."

"Upset?" Starscream laughed again, a high-pitched screech that made Swindle wince and want to reset his audios. This wasn't a good sign. He wondered if he could get out of the way in time when Starscream started to blast at him. "Why would I be upset? Because Megatron summons me to one more absolutely inane meeting just to insult me? Or because I am surrounded by completely incompetent fools that have no more sense than a hum- than dirt?" The Air-Commander trailed off into a low rasping hiss that echoed around his pitch black room. "Perhaps I am upset simply because we are being led by the biggest fool of all? When I lead, Swindle, I will listen to when someone with better senses than I yells 'Ambush'!"

Swindle stepped back another pace as the obviously circuit-blown Starscream approached him. Quickly, he held up his hands in a universal gesture of appeasement, shuffling back, ducking his chin between the bulky sections of the military colored Jeep that made up his shoulders.

"Look, boss, no one heard nothing from her, so how the heck would we have known we were being ambushed? It's not your fault, you had it pegged that they'd do that, sure. You called it, Right after she called, that comm was blocked, that's how they got us, nothing anyone could have done about it, she was too far up to realize what they were doing, you were the hero of the day. Only reason we got out of there was because of you. You knew, you knew before even Megatron did, that's for sure."

Swindle knew he was laying it on thick, but hey, who cared. If it saved him from gaining new holes, he could - and would - say just about anything and make it believable.

"I was." Starscream replied, abruptly settling back on his heels and crossing his arms as he leaned forward, thrusting his dark, sharp chin in between Swindle's words. It was almost as if the jet-mech was about to pounce on them, drag every verb back to cloak himself within them; once again creating shining armor from fawning utterance alone that would protect him from Megatron's wrath. "I pointed that out, that of course we were foolish for going into that trench."

"Totally foolish, yeah." _There we go, keep him talking about himself, yeah, that will work. Oh good, at least here in my mind, I can have my own subtitles to this conversation. This whole situation's enough like a bad vid-capture that it works, too. _

"It was an idiotic maneuver. If we'd kept to the sky, we would have had the upper hand."

"Completely idiotic, you bet." _Translation: even though you know that when it comes down to it, these flying fellows need us to do all their dirty work. Us ground-mechs do the real, in hand fighting, you guys just strafe from the air and talk all like you singlehandedly won the war yesterday. News flash, you didn't win anything but a trip to Loserville. Nice place, but I'd rather retire to the Middle East. More money in oil than crow, even though both of them are black. _

"I told him."

"You did, boss, you did." _Yeah. Then you chickened out because he was going to shoot you, some leader you'd be. I might owe you a body, but I don't owe you anything else, Screamy. _

"If he'd listened to me, Starscream–"

"We would have won that one, yeah." _Right. They had you guys pinned down from the get go. It took us and the Constructicons merging to keep you from even more damage. Do we get any credit, nope, sorry, not even one, do we? _

"We would have!"

"Oh absolutely, sure..."

Starscream's left optic slitted dangerously.

"And of course, how can we leave out the Combaticons and their well-timed appearance on the field?"

"Oh well, we did time that pretty good, I guess..."

_Uh oh. _

Rearing back, Starscream flared his wings out and shrieked at him, his voice echoing down the corridor outside.

"You know nothing! Nothing! The only reason you Combaticons knew to arrive was that I called you. If you had been there like you were supposed to be in the position you were supposed to be, this battle would have ended differently. You, I can blame this failure on you and your team. I should have left you there to rot in storage!"

"Hey now, you were the one who put us into these bodies, not our fault if we can't fly at twice the speed of sound and keep up with you guys! If anyone's to blame, it's, er... not you?"

That even sounded lame to Swindle. Adroitly, he dodged aside in time to avoid part of a computer console as it came flying out of the darkened room to crash into the wall behind his head.

"I suggest that you leave," intoned a voice abruptly at the Combaticon's side. The Decepticon looked down to see Ravage standing quietly next to him, nodded agreement, and spun on his heel to hurry away. He was expecting a shot in the back all the way down the corridor. _He's lost it completely,_ Swindle thought to himself. _He's dangerously close to turning on anyone right now just for the sake of killing one of us, because he can't kill Megatron. Well, not that he wouldn't kill any one of us if it furthered his ambitions, but...he's been odd ever since he brought back that courier to us. I think the rumors that are flying around here are right. Something happened there-he downloaded that personality wrong. Great, the only female anyone's seen down here in four million Earth-years and she's got a bit of Starscream in her basic programming. Ew. That's just down right disgusting. _

* * *

"Starscream." Ravage said quietly, padding into the room. The door slid down behind the cat's narrow haunches and silence once again peacefully reigned in the outer corridors.

* * *

Bluestreak's doors lifted as he clutched the cup between his fingers. Carefully, he brought the cup to his mouth and sipped lightly at the rim. It was obvious the silver gunner was nervous and unsure. Usually, he'd be fidgeting with his weapon or shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Now that he was sitting across the table from Prowl, and couldn't do either of those things, he was raising and lowering the cup, long fingers toying with the handle.

Overhead, the soft yellow lighting of the Ark hummed gently. Background noises gave the room a comfortable, quiet air to it, and the chairs that the two mechs sat at supported their bodies in the right sort of ergonomic curve for the robots.

"I don't know if I can really answer that question..."

"Take your time," the black and white mech encouraged him quietly. "I understand."

Bluestreak nodded and fastened his lips on the rim. His throat drew down the pink, glowing liquid within, and after a good series of swallows, he looked back up at the tactician. "I don't like talking about the Bridgeway." he said after a moment, tucking his head against his chest and settling his elbow on the table. Slowly, his fingertip picked at the flattened rivets on the edge of the frame.

"I know."

"It's not because I'm afraid of talking about it. It's over, it's done with, it's in the past, no problems from me. Like I said, I'm not afraid of talking about it, but I just don't like talking about it. I mean, it's because I've tried to forget that whole thing, but it doesn't seem it will allow me to do that, will it? I mean, I'm not afraid of what happened, I just don't like thinking about it, because then I have to think about it for the rest of the day, the night even, and hey, did you want me to go and drive that patrol you asked me about earlier, I can do that after this, I'm not doing anything else. I mean, Ironhide assigned me to check the perimeter boxes, but I can get that done in about twenty minutes, tops, I don't mind taking a drive today for a while."

"All right," Prowl agreed, not so much because he required the patrol run, but because Bluestreak would need to get out and drive for a while after this amount of stress. Any time the Bridgeway was brought up, Prowl knew the gunner found reasons to leave the conversation as quickly as possible.

Not that Prowl blamed him. He too remembered exactly where he was when the span had fallen and taken the city with it. The fact that Bluestreak had survived that attack... it had truly been against all odds that he would have suspected. He remembered going down into the zone less than four hours after, driving himself forward into that smoking ruin of what had been a city as they hunted for survivors... and found just one. One. Out of a city of thousands. It hadn't even been as if the Bridgeway was a military target - it was a completely civilian thoroughfare, an area devoted to businesses and retail shops. Nothing more.

"So, that's just what you wanted to know? That I was on the Bridgeway when... they brought it down? You knew that." Bluestreak blurted suddenly.

"I did, but that's not what I wanted to ask you about, it was actually, something else. You used to be a courier, didn't you?"

The startled look on Bluestreak's face gave away the fact he hadn't been expecting that question at all. "Yeah, I was, before... I mean, I did run a few things. Mostly datapads back and forth between the downtown areas, but that was way back when. Good runs meant a lot of easy credits, if you're fast."

"What about Westlynd?"

"Westlynd?" the silver mech echoed, his brows drawing together as he eyed Prowl. "Wait... this is about that Decepticon."

"Partially, yes," Prowl admitted openly. "And partially, it's because I need to get some things here resolved in my mind, and you're the only mech here who has the background to be able to help with that. You lived there, you worked there. Perhaps you would recognize her, she told Ironhide that's where she came from."

"No," Bluestreak replied, his tone clipped and short. "I lived on the other side of the Bridgeway, worked the opposite direction."

"However, you did make runs to Westlynd."

"Sure I did. But, if you're wondering if I ever saw that Decepticon there, the answer is no, never did. It doesn't mean much, though - it was a pretty rural city all things considered. Spread out, not like Iacon. Besides, there were a lot of mechs filling positions there, because their courier facility was a temp agency, you know, the place where you could sign up and be assured of a job. At the start of the war, they had a lot of openings, and a run was good for quick cash, if you could get through the lines."

"I remember, you had an apartment on the..."

Bluestreak stiffened, his doors sweeping forward as he clutched the cup in his hand. Prowl could hear his finger joints creaking with the strain.

"I don't know why where I lived has anything to do with this. Look, I never saw that Decepticon any day in my life, and not at Westlynd, but sure, I wouldn't be surprised if they hired one on from there. It wasn't like we had little courier stickers on us or anything. For all I know, we might have passed each other in the middle of the road, but - that would be like asking you to name every enforcer."

Prowl nodded, but didn't remark that he could have named every one on Cybertron and ranked them as well.

The silver mech shrugged, cupping his chin in his hand as he sighed. "Lots of mechs coming and going, it was just a job, you ran for anyone who paid you enough..." with that remark, he trailed off and dropped his gaze to the cup again, sloshing around the contents within. On his shoulder, one of his gun mounts had begun to rattle, the bolt rolling back and forth in the threads. He sat upright, crossed his ankles back and forth before he gulped down another mouthful of the liquid in his cup, fiddling with the handle. Setting it down, he ended up with his fingers wrapped around the edge of the table, seemingly ready to push himself off and get to his feet.

Prowl shook his head. "There is absolutely no reason to ever blame yourself for that," he interjected quietly.

The silver gunner swallowed thickly; his doors fell across his back, as he looked up guiltily at the mech beside him. "I mean, I had a chance to stop it. If I had known what was on the pad, I wouldn't have taken the assignment, and the Bridgeway-"

"Would not be standing. Megatron removed that link that day to cut off Erlew from Tarn and strengthen his stronghold and his grip on Southcut after Iacon declared their intentions to help hold Sky Mesa. It would have happened that day even if you had not run the message to him, and perhaps even more casualties would have occurred if it had been done during the afternoon commute."

"But if I had looked, if I'd thought to question -"

"If you had looked, you would be dead as well right now. Megatron would have killed you for that indiscretion on your part."

"My mind knows that, sure. But... I guess I'm good at blaming myself for a lot of things that I should have done."

"I think we all think like that. Ask Prime."

At the mention of the Autobot leader's name, Bluestreak settled back into his chair and let a long burst of air hiss from his intakes. "I know. I have."

Prowl nodded quietly, and refilled the glass Bluestreak clutched until the energon stopped a perfect inch from the top. "You've answered my question. Thank you."

"Did I?"

"You did."

"So, I can go check the perimeter boxes and then go out on patrol?"

"Yeah, might want to go do that."

Ironhide's voice drawled into the room. "Sorry, Prowl. Was down looking for Blue, here."

Bluestreak leapt to his feet, nearly dropping the half full glass onto his lap. "Sorry, sorry, I was going to go do those detection points, I was heading out earlier."

"You're four hours late gettin' there," Ironhide replied. "You remembered to check them on the rounds last night, right?"

"Yeah, I remembered," Bluestreak mumbled, looking around the room. "If you're done with me, Prowl..?"

"I am. Thank you."

The silver mech scooted quickly out of the room, leaving his cup behind him. Ironhide grinned and slipped into his vacated seat to finish off the rest of the glass.

"He forgot." Ironhide remarked after Bluestreak had gone.

"I know. I already did it for him. Left him a note on the last one that he's incredibly thankful that I was not a Decepticon patrol."

Ironhide chuckled. "Heh." He leaned on the table in front of him with a heavy sigh. "Sorry to intrude, but you wanted me to keep an eye out for him stressin' and that seemed like a good time to break into the conversation. You weren't going to get much more out of him on that subject."

"Probably not." Prowl agreed.

"So, how are our guests, anyway?"

"Hm? As well as can be expected, I suppose. Why?"

"Curious," Ironhide admitted. "Thundercracker and Reflector are one thing, but I haven't met too many couriers that could stand bein' cooped up for any length of time, and I'll include Blue in on that. I think it's somethin' that goes with the ability to do the job. Last one I saw came out of a Decepticon prison smelter back after the fall of Iacon."

"What happened to him?"

"Shot himself in the head a few clicks later."

Prowl looked up at that. "He terminated himself?"

"Yeah." Ironhide sighed again, and leaned back in the chair. "What a waste. But he was gone up there, you know." He tapped at his head, the metallic ringing noise echoing harshly in Prowl's audio sensors. "Someone told me that he'd been doin' a routine tunnel inspection when he screamed that the walls were closin' in on him."

Prowl rose slowly to his feet. "I'd better go check on Bluestreak's progress."

Ironhide nodded. "Want some company?"

"If you want to go with me, of course."

* * *

The lean black and grey robot was pacing. In fact, her feet barely got to the end of the cell door before she pivoted in place and followed the line of metal up the corner, nose nearly to the back wall before she turned and repeated her motions. Over and over again, hour after hour, until the sound of her own footsteps had taken on a constant, staccato beat that alternated with the rasp of her intakes. Each time she passed the lap, she stopped at the back wall and lashed out with a kick, slamming the rock wall once more before she started pawing at it again. It was a listless gesture, as if she did it as if driven to do so in an obsessive pattern; there was no expectation of her actions gaining her freedom in her bearing.

Prowl had been standing quietly there in the hall watching this for the last five minutes. She hadn't even noticed his presence, even though she'd passed by him over and over again while circling the cell.

Her behavior throughout these weeks had brought instant recall a series of articles that he'd read years ago, when they first arrived. Environmentalists had some of the loudest voices on the planet, he'd found. There had been rampant rumors that had run amok, from declaring the Autobot ship to be leaking radioactive fuel- it wasn't - to that they were drawing water out of the last viable breeding pond of the Western Toad - again, no, they'd drawn it out of the water table below the mountain, carefully monitoring the production for any overuse. After the toad incident (complete with some rather upset people with large magic marker signs) Prowl had immediately driven to see Professor Ludenstet, and asked for his opinion. No, that frog legs were pretty tasty wasn't the opinion he was quite looking for... however, he was soon quickly steered by one of his biologist colleagues towards the appropriate texts to in which to familiarize himself with Earth's fauna.

Prowl had thanked him for his time by talking to the fascinated man about Cybertronian biology for four or five hours, then taken the texts back to base and poured over page after page of observations, from Darwin to Linnaeus.

Careful notes layered on his desk; the black and white mech used the minutes of free time that he had to commit to memory the records of areas that were critical for habitat, especially those within or near St. Hillary. Of the most endangered species living nearby, he'd found that two types of amphibians had been taken into the captive breeding program at the zoos.

The concept of a zoo wasn't foreign to him. They had similar places back home on Cybertron, of course.

What had caught his attention in the works for a while was the fact that under stress, the zoo animals showed conduct that deviated from the norm. It affected a wide range of species, it seemed. He might have closed the book and gone onto the next, but what had kept him reading was that the actions of said animals drew a perfectly parallel theory to what he'd observed in the Autobots themselves as the battles had ground onward over the millennia. The keys that sparked the behavior were rationally apparent to him as well: boredom, frustration, loss of individual control, containing a being meant to be far-roaming within tight confines and forcing them to deal with a situation they couldn't escape from, day in and day out. Stress from captivity turned normal behaviors obsessive; war did the same.

The Decepticon seemed to be agreeing with his hypothesis.

She'd passed hours and hours of her confinement in stereotypic movement. The noise of her footfalls echoed up and down the wide metal hall constantly. He'd been quietly working down here on the computer systems the last few days, and he could easily gauge the rhythm, knew the exact moment when she'd shift her leading leg, allow her pace to bobble so she could turn the corner... then she'd reverse herself and do it again. And again. And again. Incessantly.

He waited until she had passed him once more before lifting his doors and making a soft sound in his throat, the mechanical cough of a skipping engine.

Immediately, the girl stopped in mid-stride, startled by the noise. Still banded with the dust of her capture, her black and grey plating had a hard time even attempting to reflect the dim yellow lighting applied from the glow-bars recessed into the ceiling of her cell. Her head swung quickly around to face his presence, but it was not her optics that captured him first. Instead, he heard the suck of air being pulled past her olfactory sensors; identifying his scent an instant before her recognition measured him up with a distinctly evil eye.

"Oh. It's you," she growled curtly, her voice ragged and thick with disuse. She started to swing herself forward into that continual walk again, and then cut herself short, lifting one foot and pawing at the ground in a stilted, restless way. Over-flexed knee joints popped and creaked.

Prowl nodded.

"I have some questions for you."

The courier seemed to crunch down as she shouldered the firm, precise weight of those words, her long legs moving uncomfortably underneath her. Finally, she managed to angle herself in such a way that she crouched down on her haunches, her fingertips flattening against the floor for balance.

"I probably don't have the answers you're looking for," she replied. Each word was clipped and had a rolling, tense timbre to the depth of her speech, but Prowl's audios easily passed by the rough tones and found something else. Her accent. Accents were incredibly useful in tying someone into their region of origin. Searching through his databases, he immediately attempted to apply her particular inflections to place, and found that her dialect could mark her as coming from two regions. First was the Chasm area, close to the Bridgeway, which would match up well with Westlynd back on Cybertron. The second region her dialect matched up with was much more interesting: Earth, the North American Continent, West Coast, western Oregon, to be exact. This could also correlate fairly well; Prowl could also name one of the Autobots who had comparable intonations in his speech. Apparently, it had been caused by the Ark patching up memory damage from the crash when it was programming them for the language itself. Ratchet had offered to repair it, but Beachcomber seemed to be quite mellow about himself sounding as if he were (as Sparkplug muttered often) 'a pot-smoking Eugene hippy'.

A tiny grin twitched the corner of her dark lips as she shook herself, and carefully, slowly stood back upright. "Don't have any droids, either."

The black and white mech tilted his head enough to allow his chevron to substitute for a raised brow. "Obviously you don't. You were thoroughly searched."

_And once again, _Dart thought,_ Ben Kenobi's mind-trick proves itself useless. _

"Yeah, well, see, I didn't have anything, did I?" Unconsciously, her hands drifted to her hip panels and she wrapped her fingers protectively over the top of them. "So, I probably won't have your answers, either." _Wait, thoroughly searched? Yike, I hadn't even thought about that sort of thing. That's... uncomfortable. I guess I should be thankful that I don't have to worry if I was wearing clean underwear._

"Everyone has answers," he replied, settling his weight over his left leg, "even if they don't realize it. Answer the questions, I'll worry about the rest. Now. What's your name?"

"What's yours?" she shot back, upset by the fact that it sounded like they'd man, er, mech-handled her when she couldn't do anything about it. Her outburst had barely scattered out of her lips before she winced and cast a wary blue optic towards the ceiling, half-expecting the roof to bristle spikes from myriad holes before it slammed down on her head.

The tactician merely paused calmly for a moment as if he was weighing the demand. Slowly, he shifted his weight and allowed his doors to flick forward in a shrug. "Prowl."

"Well... I'd say it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Instead, I'll just say it's sort of nice to know just who I have to thank for being locked in here for a month."

"Three weeks on Wednesday. And, yes, that would be me. Now, your name?"

"Wow, the sarcasm got completely overlooked, didn't it?"

"More like noted, and ignored. I've been around it enough that I don't bother registering it anymore. Now, what's your name?"

She blinked, surprised to find herself laughing. She was sure it wasn't meant to be funny; the way he stood there was completely composed and without humor... but add his stiff posture and gaze into those words and it was funny. The corner of his mouth seemed to twitch in response for a fraction of a second, and then she wondered if she'd even seen that, or if it was a trick of the poor light and the shimmering field around the bars. Her shoulders lowered, the spoiler between them settling back, cocked at a calmer angle. "Yeah, I understand that..." she replied, realizing she did. Decepticon headquarters used sarcasm as their second language. In the States they taught you French or Spanish; in giant robot school they apparently taught you the finer inflections of 'Yes, Lord Megatron, I am happy to serve.' "But, I still don't think I'm supposed to give out my name in this type of situation."

"According to whom?"

"Well, I'm guessing my higher ups wouldn't appreciate me giving out information. Any information."

"I am merely asking your name, not for the codes to the Decepticon mainframe. Do you think that they've given you any information that we don't have already?"

"If you already know all the information... why are you asking me my name?"

"No, I just meant that your superiors wouldn't have given you any vital information. Your name does not count as such."

Yeah, it was true, that the Decepticons hadn't told her anything considered vital by any stretch of the imagination. Even though that was the case, the point that the Autobot was making rankled. Even his sigil seemed to be nodding smugly in agreement with his observation.

Her spoiler flattened back once again in an obviously sour line across her narrow shoulders. "Okay, well, since I obviously don't know what's vital, I'll keep my name to myself, thanks."

"I was trying to be polite and give you the chance to give me your name on your own. I have ways of obtaining the information."

Instantly, the girl recoiled, a low, rolling growl churning out of her throat. Her optics shuttered down into narrowed slits of blue.

"Go ahead, do your worst."

With a brisk nod, Prowl reached over and pressed his finger against panel half hidden in the wall. There was a buzzing noise, followed by a sharp, electronic whirr. She clamped her jaws together and braced herself for whatever was coming. All those war movies where they held the prisoners until they were ready to strap them to the chair, shine light in their eyes ,and break their fingers came rushing back. Sure, Thundercracker had said not to worry, but who was to say what the dark blue mech considered worrying - she'd seen him get a replacement wing one afternoon in the repair bay. What they could pull off of her own robot form seemed pretty firmly attached... and that was exactly the way she liked those things, especially when it came to her arms, legs, and head.

"Teltran, patch me through to Cell Nine-A."

"_Connecting." _

In an instant, the panel clicked in confirmation, and Prowl leaned slowly forward. She watched him intently, her fingers balling into fists. Her knife blades chafed inside of her arms, the disabled mechanism that slipped them into place clicking like a broken door latch. Inside of her calf, she felt a support rod grinding as she lifted herself onto the front of her toes, ready to move the minute...

"Thundercracker." Prowl said into the speaker grille.

"_Yeah? What do you want now?"_

"What is the girl's name?"

"_Oh, her? That's Dart."_

"Thank you."

"_Whatever."_

Prowl turned back to find that Dart's face carried the same dumbstruck expression birds got when they realized the trees on the horizon were convincingly layered over plate glass. Her mouth gaped open, and she stared at him through the glowing bars.

Prowl nodded at her politely, his expression and posture still perfectly neutral. "I did warn you."

"Er, you did... but... but... isn't that sort of cheating?"

This time, he allowed himself to smile slightly. "No. Now, next question," he said, not giving her a chance to recover before he pressed the conversation onward. "Function?"

"What?"

"Your function. What role do you have in the Decepticon forces?"

"Er... ah, um..." she stuttered, rocking her weight in a hobby horse motion back and forth. It was obvious he'd thrown her so completely that if he'd asked her name right now she probably wouldn't remember it. "You mean, what can I do?"

"Yes."

"I... I'm a runner."

"Courier, then?"

She started to draw back, and then realized that if she started to balk, all he'd do probably was call wherever he'd called before. _I wonder what they did to Thundercracker... whatever they did, I probably don't want to know. _She probably didn't, because right at this moment, the mech was flopped on his back in his own cell drinking low-grade energon out of a cup while staring at the ceiling and wondering if this place could get any more boring.

"Yes, I-I run." she stuttered.

"How long have you been on Earth?"

Her spoiler chattered, the question making her start. _He can't know, can he?_ "How- how long?" she echoed, trying to buy herself time to remember this. It should have been easy to recall her birthdate, but that information slipped through her memories and twirled off as if it was a maple key caught in a downdraft. She tried again; and it was revealed with sudden shock that it wasn't only her nervousness that caused her to forget. That memory was completely gone, almost as if it had been neatly erased. It didn't exist any longer. Dart didn't know what day she was born. She didn't remember what grade school she'd gone to... nothing.

Dart's knees locked. A frantic expression crossed her face as she stared at the mech while she tore through her thoughts, searching for something, anything... oh, oh... there was one, the Portland Rose Garden in full bloom rose through; the musk of the flowers almost overwhelmingly sweet, so thick still within the memory she could pick out the subtle chemical changes of decay in the bruised blossoms that overhung the path, the ones bumped by every passing tourist and then crushed into the sidewalk by the vicious wheels of baby strollers.

A whiff of deodorant, now. Men's deodorant, sharp citrus lime, the two other runners beside her dripping with bitter sweat as they jogged up the dunes, pale sand shifting under their feet and bogging every stride. The salt-laden ocean breeze cooled her own soaked T-shirt, dried crusty stains on the neck of the fabric and under her arms as she toiled after them. No way was she going to be left behind, not by a couple of freshmen. Why could she remember these things and not something as simple as her birthday...?

The thin trickle of water sliding down the wall in the background reached through into her audios. All thoughts of dates and times were forgotten as her focus tunneled down into each drip hitting the floor. Sound pounded forward, the noise as loud as if it was a herd of horses breaking through the flimsy wall of a corral and rushing down a dry mesa, joyous in their escape. In the soft silence between her and the mech it became nearly unbearable. Dart brought her hand up, banged the heel of her hand against the side of her head in a jerky, pawing motion, but the noise didn't stop, wouldn't stop.

Prowl's voice scattered the liquid hoofbeats into the ambient background noise once more. "Yes. How long? When were you added to the Decepticon ranks here?"

"Oh!" she said, and there was understanding and abrupt relief in the way her hands dropped to her sides. "Oh. Five months ago? Wait, maybe four. No... six, I can't remember, really."

Prowl regarded her for a moment - the suspicions he'd aired to Ironhide seemed to be proving themselves correct. He silently picked up the last few pieces in his mental puzzle and deftly snapped them down into place. "You arrived here through the Space Bridge?"

"Space bridge?" Galloping Gertie, the famous - and previous span that had crossed the Tacoma Narrows popped into Dart's mind. Only this time, it wasn't rolling in waves, bouncing the abandoned cars in the vicious crosswinds; instead it tumbled through space as if it was a monolith made out of green painted steel and concrete.

"Activated here, then. Were any new recruits brought on line at the same time you were? Or are you the only recent addition?"

"I don't know. I don't know who's new and who's not," she said.

That answer he would verify with Thundercracker later. His doors swung back and clicked, laced with the sound of a police officer snapping the cover of a notebook down and tucking it back into his pocket. "All right. Now, is there anything else you think I should know?"

"Yeah. Let me out," she replied, and it was obvious she was attempting to regain her composure. Her hands fidgeted, clasped behind her back, then slid gingerly forward to rest on her hips. The magnetic clasps over her item carriers popped open, and her hands immediately thrust downwards and tucked themselves within, her knuckles rasping on the metal pocket. "Three weeks in here with no bathroom has to violate something in the Geneva Convention."

"It does not," he replied. "Article twenty-nine states that Prisoners of war shall have for their use, day and night, conveniences which conform to the rules of hygiene and are maintained in a constant state of cleanliness. You have been given what you need."

"Article twenty nine...?"

"Of the Geneva Convention."

"You memorized the Geneva Convention?" she blinked, and her expression hightailed it once again towards the land of bafflement.

"I've read it. It seemed prudent to my post to familiarize myself with the treatment of prisoners on this world, to compare it against our own procedures. There's some amazing similarities, even some things we'd do well to enact ourselves."

"Right." she muttered, scuffing at the floor with her toe. "Would it have hurt you to put in a window?"

"We should look into that at some point. It would save energy on lighting."

She threw a glare at him, and he realized that his comment had been taken as sarcasm, when it had been spoken as honest fact. Prowl could admit that Ironhide was right; he didn't have the best cell-side manner. He wasn't a good cop, or even a bad cop; he was the one whose domain was the evidence room as he sat by his microscope and catalogued every last hair.

"Yeah, well, I don't expect too much," she growled, her tones angry and dull. Her lean grey face peered out at him, slightly distorted by the humming cell field. "You know, he'll get me out."

"Who?" Prowl started to say, then realized he knew who she was referring to. He managed to hide a small smile. "Ah. Well, that's always a possibility. A remote one, but still a possibility."

The girl blew out a heavy sigh as she tapped beside the edge of the bars with one finger. The energy sparked towards her hand, and she drew it back, cupping her fingers nervously until she realized the small jolt had proved harmless. She watched it for a few moments, drawn into the flicker of light and motion. Finally, she looked up. Her focus was not on him but on some distant point. She muttered something under her breath about the world being full of strange possibilities, before she turned her back on him and withdrew into the motion her footfalls once again.

* * *

"Hold it steady."

Pale sparks trickled down from where weld-tip met metal as Hound glanced over his shoulder at Bluestreak. "I'm holding it as steady as I can," the green mech replied, as he squinched his left optic into a thin line to measure out just how far he'd managed to draw the hot beads of metal. "Sorry, this isn't really my area of expertise, but I'm always willing to take a shot at learning some new skills to help out, you know that."

"It's not my area either. Okay, I admit it, I admit it, I should have checked those perimeter boundaries before, but come on, it wasn't like anything was going to get through them, no one gets through them, Prowl's got so many systems on top of systems, I don't see a roto-rat getting through, much less a Decepticon, even if they are related, ha ha. I don't know why Ironhide got so mad about it, we have eight billion security systems inside this place, right down to the panels in the halls and the trip sensors."

"Eight billion and one."

"What's the one?"

"Us," Hound laughed, tapping the middle of his chest with a forefinger, right between his headlights. "We're the last line of fortified defense, go figure. Hey, does that look okay to you?"

Bluestreak stared at the spot his friend was pointing to in the middle of his chest before he realized that hadn't been Hound's intention. "The weld? Oh it looks fine, I guess."

In the cell behind them, the Decepticon lifted herself and inclined her head slightly in an effort to listen better to their voices. The two mechs had been down in the cell bay for at least an hour, maybe two. She didn't know; keeping track of time had been the least of her problems lately. Right now, it was boredom. The courier wished she had a tin cup to bang against the bars. Not that her captors would get the reference, but it would be something to do besides pace and sit, pace and shut down, then shake herself back into awareness and pace more. Right now, Dart had wedged her spoiler up against the two corners of the walls, and had her arms crossed over her knees. She couldn't see the two mechs at all, tucked as they were down the hallway, but off and on she caught a glimpse of their sharp shadows cast on the far wall with the flickering light of the welding equipment.

When they'd walked through earlier, she'd been pacing in her cell, and had swung nervously around at their approach. Briefly and accidentally she'd met the Autobot's optics. The green mech's expression seemed merely curious as he walked past. She watched him, lifting one foot as if she wasn't sure where to put it down, and started to back away to the corner, but he dipped his head and offered a good-natured half smile in greeting before he shifted his tool kit to his other hand. A whistle escaped through his lips, a top forty song that had been on the radio recently about living in the modern world; to add to her surprise on his cheer and his musical knowledge, a whiff of scent caught her sensors, pine pitch and cedar, crushed grass and dry road dust. The smell overlapped the mechanical workings of the robot, seemingly as natural to him as his layers of drab green paint.

Longingly, Dart caught the tannin-rich odor of decaying oak leaves. She leaned forward on the edge of her toes, delightedly sniffing at this as if she was a blind man reading a newspaper by braille, exulting in how scent became a winding description of the places outside her confinement.

His silver-grey companion's pale blue optics sent a flash across his high cheek-plates as he followed the green mech's gaze into her cell. Immediately, he threw his gaze past her to the far wall. His elbows drew tight to his body as the front doors of his Datsun mode pinned back behind his shoulders, and his stride caught and hesitated in mid-step. A memory pressed itself into the crook of Dart's thoughts; the bristling fur between the flattened ears of an angry dog. It was reflex more than reaction that sent her hands open and forward, exposed her palms upward, and she began to back up slowly, dropping her chin so that she glanced at the floor.

Twisted into a grim line, his lips twitched as he focused on a spot in the middle of her chest. Briefly, Dart wondered what T-shirt she'd grabbed out of the drawer that morning - what could he have possibly found offensive on it? The only one she owned that had words on it was a free running jersey from a Nike sponsored meet. Oh wait, no, there was that one that a friend had bought her down at the Pike Place Market while vacationing in Seattle. Even that wasn't too offensive. Really. How could a punk poodle with a mohawk be offensive to anyone except a poodle lover?

_That can't be it. Come on, even poodle owners have to know it's a joke, honest._

Glancing down, there was no poodle. Not at all. Only a splotch of lavender branded across the silver lightning bolt that ran from shoulder to waist... Oh, right. That.

In front of her cell, the mech was still, but even through the dim green haze from the bars, she could see the cables of his jaw and throat working convulsively. It took her a second before she realized that he was speaking to himself, muttering softly. His doors sagged dangerously low on their hinges; even the guns on his shoulders flattened against the curve of his metal. One optic remained on her sigil, the other seemed to roll back in his head to survey the ceiling above him as if he was expecting the mountain to suddenly slam itself back into the earth and bury him within it. Body language showed his fear, and his nervous energy caught her up like a herd-beast; she too tilted her head to stare up at the rock above them, edging herself a half-step towards the middle of the cell, trying to draw away from the walls around her, raising up a leg up to draw the tip of her foot across at the metal floor beneath her. Unfortunately, her movement only served to snap his attention directly on her; the Autobot's hand started to reach over his shoulder.

The green mech had paused, and was peering back behind him. A slight frown pulled lightly at the corners of the Autobot's mouth, interrupting his normally placid smile with concern. "Hey, Bluestreak, everything okay? We should probably get this done before Ironhide comes down to see why it's taking us so long."

Bluestreak's fingers closed on empty air. He blinked once.

"I'm coming, Hound."

Creaking on their hinges, the silver mech's doors swung back, and he shifted his weight over the front tips of his feet, striding forward rapidly after his friend as if he'd denigrate himself by mere contact with the floor in front of Dart's cell. Lifting her nose into the thin thread of air, the courier found the second mech's odor redolent with the sharp tingle of electricity and ozone. Before she could think of anything to say, he had already vanished after his companion, and the wall effectively blocked them both from her view. She sighed, and slumped her way back to sit in the corner. Turning her face into the air currents one final, wistful time, she found that the rich, organic smell of the leaves was now long gone, replaced once again by the oily, greasy undertone of the ventilators constantly recirculating air through the tunnels in the cone of the mountain.

Banter drifted back to her again. It helped her pass the time, half-listening to them work.

"Thanks. Haven't welded myself to the pipes yet."

Hound held up his forefinger and crooked it in a lighthearted wiggle in front of Bluestreak's face. "Figured I was doing pretty good, all things considered. I've got to admit it, my welds resemble lumpy toothpaste, without that fresh mint feeling that the commercials go on and on about. I don't know, though... we might still want to ask Grapple to come down here and check this. I'm not sure if it will actually hold water."

"It doesn't have to hold the water, that's not what it's designed for. All it needs to do - well, the water, needs to do - er, not that water really does much except flow downhill into the ocean or go through the tap into a shower or wherever water needs to go - is follow the pipe down into the drain grate... wait, which commercial?"

"Well, yeah, but the way my welding talents lie, it's going to be hard pressed to do that. Hopefully, it's very intelligent liquid." Hound grinned, shuttering a wink out of one blue optic. "There has to be a better way to do this."

"Welding drainpipes?" Bluestreak wondered, bringing up his hand to scratch at his chin thoughtfully as he took a good long look into the maze of piping, bracketed back to the stone wall. Reaching out a tentative hand, he wrapped his fingers around a metal loop and took a careful test pull. Everything held firm, much to his amazement.

"Nope, achieving minty freshness. Just kidding, the drainpipes. After surveying what we've accomplished, I can gracefully admit that the better way to do this is to get someone else to weld it."

"It's only a little lopsided, no one will notice, and yeah, you're probably right. I mean, if Ironhide comes down here and sees the mess we've made - wait, you've made, you did all the welding- of this project, I have no doubt that he'll make us do it over again, and I don't want to sit down here any longer than I have to. Someone really needs to replace all the lights down here one of these days, don't they? It's like... awfully dark down here, isn't it? And tight, it's..."

The gunner's voice became brittle, thin shards of verbal ice cracking the rapid flow of his speech.

Hound glanced overhead, to the faded newspaper yellow hue cast by the flickering glow-bars, then back at Bluestreak. He calmly brought the flat of his hand up over his optics as if he was out in the low hills of Oregon, surveying the landscape, mapping every dip and bend and stone before he moved forward. When he turned back around, he dropped his hand swiftly back to his side, using the gesture to draw the other mech's focus away from the grey metal and stone above them both and back onto him. "Actually, I think it's just a trick of the light and the stone walls combined together that gives you that impression. Don't blame you a bit, I had to look a bit before I understood what was going on, but... hey, if you look down, it's nice and wide, and really stable, thanks to how the base cone of the mountain is. Hmm. You know, I just thought of something. If giving us this particular job is any indication, I bet they'll send the twins down here to change the burnt out bits. Next, they'll send Tracks out to do some off-road cartography."

Bluestreak rolled a laugh out of his throat and stared incredulously at his friend. His doors quirked up and back, and he snorted an astounded puff of air out of his intakes, the walls around him momentarily forgotten as he seemed to try and come to grips with Hound's idea. "Tracks? Off road? He'd completely destroy himself - you'd hear him complaining right before the potholes tore out every last shred of his undercarriage, but hey, do you really see Sunstreaker and Sideswipe being given a glow-rod and being told to change them out? I don't think it would go over well - but then again, we're down here welding pipes... so maybe that's the thing, I guess it could happen, but... no no, I can't see those two putting up with that sort of duty one bit."

"That's true, and it makes you wonder why _we're _putting up with it."

Bluestreak gave a succinct twitch of his left door in place of a shoulder shrug. "Maybe because we're not the masters of the art of Jet Judo?"

"Hey, that's it, exactly. You know what that means."

"I do?"

"Sure. We need to work on our ninja skills," Hound replied, lifting up the welding torch and bringing it down in a mockery of a karate chop. "They'd give us better menial jobs. Hey, does that pipe look right to you?"

"What's it supposed to look like?"

"A pipe."

Bluestreak laughed openly, dropping his hands to his knees as he braced himself to peer down at the metal cylinder Hound was indicating. He reached out and tapped it lightly with a forefinger; it chimed like a silver bell. "Looks like that, that's for sure."

"Hey, I'm getting better. Last time I was forced to fabricate metal, it ended up an unflattering cross between a communications pole and a light bar. Now it appears to be a rather well done water diverter." The green mech stood up and dusted off his hands as he twirled the end of the torch around one finger, then slapped it back into his palm before tossing it into the air. "Good, We're done, then. As the humans say, I think it's close enough for horseshoes."

Dart shifted her weight over her left hip. Her spoiler dug farther into the corners of the wall. The soft, comforting sound of the water falling from the cracks in the stone wall was gone, and her olfactory systems could no longer pick out the cool, mineral odor of seeping rain. Even searching through the air with her nose again didn't help - the last of the outdoor scents had vanished with the onslaught of welding and work; pine covered up in steel and solder.

"Personally, I think we have to worry more if it's close enough for Ironhide and Prowl, myself. The water's running down the right channels now, isn't it, I mean, it's not making a puddle on the floor any more and going towards the bars. I don't know what all the fuss is about, it's not like those things would short out if they came in contact with water..."

"Maybe they'll just yell, 'surf's up?'" Hound teased gently, as his wide-mouthed grin lolled from one side of his jaw to the other.

In response, Bluestreak groaned and leaned his head into his hand, his fingers curling underneath his chevron, supporting his forehead against the bend of his knuckles. Finally he spread his fingers and peered out between them as cautiously as a hare in the underbrush, as if perhaps in that time Hound would have wandered off somewhere else and found someone else to make fun of. Seeing him still there in front of him only made him groan again, obviously embarrassed. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Aw, why would you want to? It was great. Not only did you hang ten, you were hanging on for dear life."

"Whose stupid idea was it for the surfboards?" Bluestreak replied, his speech slipping down once again into the rambling, earnest rhythm he affected when he was defensive or nervous. His hands spread wide, mirrored by his doors. "Not mine. No, that wasn't mine, because I would have said something about getting into the ocean on thin strips of metal and scooting across choppy waves in the wake of our home planet being pulled into Earth's orbit."

"It was Wheeljack's idea, remember... well, not the drag the planet down to the middle of the ocean thing, that was all Megatron's doing, I'm sure."

"Oh yeah, I remember, I remember. Not that I ever get a chance to forget, because my friend took it on himself to holo-vid the whole thing and keep showing it to everyone who asks every chance he gets."

Hound grinned and flipped out his hand, palm up as he waggled his fingers as if he had become a street magician hovering over three Dixie Cups and a pebble. "Ta da!"

There was a flash of light from his holographic projector, and then a tiny, transparent replica of the silver gunner was flailing mightily along on his makeshift board, minuscule optics wild as he frantically pointed out the monster wave rushing towards the rest of the Autobots behind him.

"Hey! That's not me!"

"What, you think it's Prowl, painted grey?" Hound laughed, letting the holographic Bluestreak surf and dodge in a swirling light-show of crystal blue water. Bluestreak crossed his arms and opened his mouth to reply at the same moment, but was struck oddly speechless for once as Hound popped a pair of bright colored Hawaiian shorts on his creation and let it strum on an ukelele. Beach bum Bluestreak did a series of stalefish grabs and a loop slide before Hound shut down the power to his light show and elbowed the silver mech gently in the flank. "If that's the case, we're now we're back to the mouthwash commercial, you know the one, 'double your pleasure, double your fun!'"

Dart lifted her chin from the makeshift pillow of her elbow. Funny, this was one of those discussions she'd participated in many times in the campus commons; the sort that came about at three in the morning with a lack of coffee and a lot of tired students who were studying plate tectonics and still managing to fail their geology course. Name the commercial had been one of the games that got played in that moment of utter boredom, and her time here had stretched into weeks of utter boredom. So, the answer blurted out of Dart's throat before she could catch herself about the fact she wasn't supposed to be talking about anything related to human lives, and that the Autobots probably weren't going to be too thrilled to have her interject anything into their private conversation.

"It's a gum commercial."

Hound craned his neck around, surprised to hear another voice but his and Bluestreak's. He'd nearly forgotten the girl was down here, she'd been so quiet. Normally, a captured Decepticon snarled and ranted and raved about who they were going to kill with their bare hands once they escaped. So far, he was destined to die about once a week for the next twenty years... well, give or take a year or two.

Actually, in a way he was glad she hadn't said anything out loud. The last thing he wanted to see was Bluestreak completely swamped in buried memories. He agreed silently with Ironhide, in that it had been good for the gunner to stand there in the dark hall and help fix things, to walk away with even a small success. Every time he was able to do so was a gain in Blue's confidence; a subtle layer of emotional patch smoothed onto his terribly wounded mental state. Hound knew - all Blue often needed in most cases was time to prop himself up with his words and struggle his way forward with them. Hound was quite good at standing patiently by someone's side and offer an audile crutch to lean on when needed.

Slowly, the scout pushed off the ground with his fingertips and pulled himself up off his knees, leaving the open toolbox scattered at his feet as he turned and walked casually back up the hall, his hands loose by his sides, fingers open. The girl seemed surprised to see his face peer through the bars and she gathered her legs under her and clambered to her feet as well. Warily, she watched his approach, and her body language tightened and withdrew as if she wasn't sure what he was going to do or say. Would he be angry with her for saying something, had she made some sort of mistake that would find her on the end of a high powered fire-hose, or a rubber truncheon, or whatever robots used in their place? Okay, so her imagination was running away from her, but the silver mech did have guns on his shoulders, and he sure didn't seem... well, stable. _Then again, I probably don't have any right to call anyone stable; I'm the one trotting around in circles and growling lately... _

No gun. No ice cold blast of a hose. The solid mech did nothing but a flash a smile through the green glow of the bars. "Seriously? I thought it was a mouthwash commercial."

Dart shuttered her optics in a blink and shifted her hands behind her back. Her weight drifted over one leg to the other, rocking her back, a leggy, robotic hobby horse on a tight pull string. Expectantly, the mech inclined his head, obviously waiting for an answer to his question.

"You're talking about the one the girls - er, the human girls - the twins, right?" she stuttered finally.

"Riding the bike together through the park?"

Hound waited for her nod of agreement before he lightly slapped the side of his head with his hand, as if he was gently jogging his memory free of bad action toy based cartoons and silly sitcoms. "That's the one!" he agreed. "So, it's a gum commercial? Well, my commercial recognition circuitry must have locked out while I was watching Silver Spoons. Not that I blame it, but... I could have sworn it was about minty freshness."

"It is. It's for Doublemint."

"Oh! Right, mint and mint. Double mint. Smells nice, that's for sure... humans truly enjoy their mint, don't they? Hmm. I wonder what it does."

"What what does?"

"Chewing gum."

"Er, chewing gum? It's gum. It doesn't do much except get stuck under park benches and theater seats."

"Oh ho, okay... I guess I'm a bit confused on the distinction between gum and food."

Dart shrugged slightly. "One you chew and spit out, the other you chew and swallow. I think the nutritional quality of gum is fairly low, sorry."

"Think so? It must be. Spike's always chewing it for about twenty minutes and finding somewhere to toss it out. Wonder why they don't make a long lasting gum that tastes good all day... hey, okay, now I just have to ask. Where'd a ninja like yourself learn so much about gum?"

"Ninja?"

He leaned back on his heels and shook his head, lowering his voice as if he was offering up a secret joke that they both would get a huge kick out of. "To hear the twins say it, you were running well, but you couldn't hope to dodge their skill and charm."

"Twins?"

"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker," he volunteered. When she merely stood and struggled with the names, unable to place them to faces and only achieving a blank look, Hound thought for a moment, then tried again, breaking it down in terms she might recall. "Red and yellow."

Her lip curled back slightly. She managed to swallow her growl back before it snuck out again. Those two she could do without seeing for the rest of her life. Heck, she could do without seeing them for the rest of everyone else's life, too.

"Right, right. Personally, I don't put a lot of stock into what they say at times. They have a habit of... hmm, well embellishing the truth sometimes. Mostly, they just don't tell you all of the story... Speaking of which - I hate to say this, but you don't look like you could turn your arm into a cannon."

The Autobot's expression offered the impression he was absolutely delighted with his own sense of humor. Dart couldn't help but find herself, well... sort of liking this guy. Sure, she knew he was - er, 'the enemy'... but equating his personality with the flashy fratboy mechs that had taken her out back at the canyon seemed ridiculous. It was as he wasn't even acknowledging the bars between them, the sigil on their chests - instead, his small talk was merely curious, and...

Strangely, she had to also admit that this was the most human conversation she'd had in months, too. The mech wasn't telling her what to do, how to talk, how to act - he hadn't suggested for her to quit blathering about something that was no longer a part of her life, and he wasn't making her feel as if she were a complete idiot because she didn't know how she was supposed to respond to questioning properly. Here she was, walled off - oh, better not to think about that - and stuck underneath a still active volcano, trapped in an alien jail cell, and she'd finished up a conversation with an alien robot about chewing gum.

_And that's a bad thing? _she thought to herself. _Well no... except for the fact that I think the jingle might be stuck in my head... huh? What cannon is he..._

Glancing down at her wrist, she shook her head, trying not to appear too rueful with her smile. Holding up her arm in front of her, she tapped her forearm with a finger. "Oh, right, that cannon. It's in here along with the spoon, toothpick, and nail file, you bet. Seriously though, if I could turn my arm into a gun of massive destruction, do you think I'd still be here in Hotel St. Hilary?"

"Hmm. Good point. Except, I'd have to say we're really more of a Motor Lodge."

His delivery of the punchline was so spot on, she bounced back a laugh. "Owch."

Hound spread his hands and managed to appear sheepishly contrite. "I know, I know. I've been saving that one for a while. Motor Lodge. Now, if I can only figure out a way to make fun of the Motel Six parking slots, my existence will be complete, you know... no, you don't know, well, I don't blame you for that. Now, I don't also blame you for the fact I should be taken out and shot for that pun, huh?"

Footsteps clattered along the hall.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Decepticon? You'd love to see us all shot."

The silver gunner's voice strained, rattling as if it were loose gravel through pitch and tone as he abruptly appeared at his friend's side. Lowering his head, he bullishly thrust the red plane of his chevron forward as if it were a pair of wicked metal horns he could scythe into the girl's narrow flanks, to hook her and toss her away from them both. On his shoulders, his two cannons twitched and targeted, then flicked upward towards the ceiling. "You Decepticons won't be happy until you've killed every single Autobot, then you'll start in on every single thing that doesn't bow down to your conquest."

Dart stumbled back a step; it felt as if she'd been shoved off balance by the sheer vehemence in those words and actions. Regaining herself took a frantic moment of limbs; finally, she was able to straighten up and she snarled out a burr of sound, instinctively warning the grey mech to stay back. The tips of her spoiler poked up from behind the curve of her back, stiff and taunt. Bluestreak started to reach over his shoulder once more, then dropped his hand to his side, fingers flexing and curling as if they were resting around the invisible stock of a rifle.

The tension rising around Hound was in direct contention with the scout's easy-going nature. Oh sure, he could fight a Decepticon, you bet. If he ever got stuck underwater with Rumble again, he was going to make sure he bonked that mini-menace's head against something before he ever had a chance to use his pile-drivers. Sorry. Buried under a ton of rock at the bottom of a river wasn't Hound's idea of a good time. It put a damper on his day. Oh, hey, there was another bad pun. He'd have to remember that one.

Right now, though, this girl was behind bars, and she wasn't a threat to anyone but herself at the moment. Hound was more concerned about his friend's reaction. He'd seen it before, he knew the symptoms of memories and ghosts crawling out from the depths of Bluestreak's mind. The gunner was perhaps underneath a solid mountain, but he was equating it with a collapsing city; one of the most violent specters resided in that ugly, angular slash of lavender on the Decepticon's chest...

Settling back onto his heels, the scout brought forth another gentle burst of laughter. Both robots looked at him right before he clapped his hand lightly onto Bluestreak's shoulder. The gunner jumped slightly, and Hound grinned again, whisking aside the burgeoning stress and anchoring Bluestreak back in the present as subtly as possible. "Well, seeing how she's already met Swipe and Sunny, I'm pretty sure that I'm probably third on any hit list she might have. Hey, I might even be fifth, if she dislikes the twins enough to count them twice. Now, this might be totally off the previous subject... miss - may I ask you a strange question? At the canyon, you knew we were there, didn't you?"

Surprised at being directly addressed again, Dart hesitated, her growl rumbled off in her throat and shifted itself into sidelong, confused appraisal. "I - I figured out you were there, yeah."

"I'm impressed," he replied, with a nod. "I thought I'd done a good job making sure everyone had wiped their tracks clean and were... Oh oh, hmm. You're not a scout, are you?"

"A scout? Oh, no no... I was just running ahead."

"Hmm. Guess that means the 'Cons still don't have a dedicated scout, as far as I know... hey, whew, job security for me, right?"

The girl relaxed a bit more, her spoiler lowering, but one wary optic remained focused on Bluestreak.

"Yeah. Besides, even though I figured out that you were there, I wasn't fast enough to tell anyone."

"Fast enough?" he asked, raising a brow-plate in surprise. "Okay, how much faster did you need to be?"

Her shoulders lifted in a faint shrug as she graced him with a blank look. "A lot faster, I guess..." She focused in on the bars in front of her for a moment, lifted her hand as if she was going to place it on them, palm down. They crackled out a warning, a spark lunging for her fingertip. She yanked her hand back, caught herself and looked back up at him. "I won't make that mistake again."

"No?"

"No," she muttered flatly, glaring at the bars, her hands hovering around her hip carriers. She scuffed her foot along the floor. "Next time those two show up, I'm hightailing it again as fast as I can in the opposite direction. So, be assured, Autobot, that I will not make that mistake next time I'm in that situation."

"Twenty seven," Hound said with a chuckle, turning his wrist back and forth as if he was looking down at a particularly elegant Rolex.

"What?"

"It only took you twenty seven sentences to work into a suitably grandiose Decepticon speech. It usually takes four or five, well... maybe only one, if Blue here starts talking again."

Bluestreak snorted.

The female Decepticon eyed them both for a second. Then her mouth curled into a lopsided grin, and she shook herself with a metallic rattle, as if she were a dog climbing out of a pond and tossing water from her coat. "I know, I'm lousy at them anyway. I guess what you're trying to tell me nicely is that I should leave it for my leader types, huh?"

_Now, that's certainly unusual, _Hound thought. _A Decepticon with a sense of humor that involves laughing at itself... _

"Bluestreak, Hound."

Prowl's voice drifted down the hallway, and both the green mech and the silver one turned their heads. "Over here, Prowl," Hound called back.

The black and white mech's measured footsteps proceeded him, and then Prowl walked into view, feet tapping on the ruddy plates of the long, bare hallway. "Did you finish?"

"The pipes? Yeah, we're all done."

"Good. Both of you go and speak to Ironhide, he has some things he needs done on the borders."

"All right, Prowl." Hound replied. A few seconds later both the green mech and the grey one had vanished down the hall.

The lift to the upper levels of the Ark rattled and shook. Hound leaned against the side rail and wrapped his fingers casually around it. "I'm amazed," he said finally.

"With what? That? Give me a break, you know, I can't figure out the big deal, why does anyone cares that there's an extra Decepticon around?"

"No, that Prowl didn't keep us around to weld more pipes. Obviously, our lack of skill has not gone unnoticed, so that might help us in the long run."

"Help what? It's a Decepticon, that's all anyone should care about, not anything else."

"I was actually talking about the pipes, not the girl, but... but hey, now I can tell Trailbreaker the twins were kidding him a bit, I think."

"First that robot of Dr. Fujiami's and then this one. Look, that's I bet you it's just another human prototype, no matter what anyone else thinks of it."

"Seriously? I wonder why they didn't make another ninja, if that's the case."

"I don't know, you're the human expert," Bluestreak countered.

"Well, you know, I do have a theory. Want to hear it? Okay," Hound continued, not waiting for an answer. "See, humans have these archetypical figures that they identify with on some level, and it taps a portion of their collective unconsciousness. Ninjas, for example. Based on this amazing theory, the next in line for the female robot experiment really should have been a cowgirl. Or maybe a pirate. They're both fairly close for second."

"Cowgirl pirate?"

"Bingo. You always catch on fast, Blue."

"You're kidding, no, you have to be kidding, because I think that's one of the weirdest theories I've ever heard." The gunner let out a groan and leaned his head into his hand again. "You are so going to get in trouble for watching too much television, because if Prowl hears you say that out loud, him and his logic circuits are going to fry, and then Ratchet's going to make sure you never get to turn on the television again, and if I miss seeing one episode of Family Ties - speaking of which, did you catch the one where Skippy found out he was adopted, that was a shocker - so if I don't know how that ends because of your ideas, I'm going to be upset. Besides, I'm so tired about the amount of discussion that's been stuck here on one Decepticon lately. First you have to be all nice, then Prowl calls me in to talk about it, and I don't want to talk about it, I'm not interested in putting the words Decepticon and Bridgeway together in the same sentence."

"Prowl wanted you to talk about it?"

"He did, but I didn't want to, because it's not important, it was talking about back home, places back home and I didn't know anything about the place he was asking about, it's not like I went there very often. Everyone assumes I knew all about all the cities around there, you know, but I don't..."

"How did you find your way around, then?"

"Maps. Isn't that how you find your way around down here?"

Hound laughed. "Since I make the maps, I tend to find my way around without them."

"My point exactly, I don't make maps, I just download them and then toss them like everyone else, so I really didn't keep track of them."

"Why was he so interested in directions all of a sudden?"

"Wasn't directions, it was that Decepticon. Something about Westlynd."

"Ah, she's from there? Well, see, not a human thing then. The last human ninja robot girl wasn't all that talkative, and I'm guessing she wouldn't have known about gum. She sure could throw those metal stars, though. Owch," he finished, rubbing his forearm ruefully.

"I didn't notice, because I wasn't really in the mood to have a conversation with the Decepticon while it was tearing through our base. Not that I want to have a conversation with one in the first place, the only things they ever want to talk about is how to kill us."

"Tearing through the base? Wow, I don't remember her doing that. The canyon, sure, but... did I miss something?"

"Huh? Oh, no, I was talking about what's the name..." Bluestreak folded his hands and tapped on the back of the left one with a fingertip. "Nightblip."

"Nightbird? Oops, my mistake. But she wasn't a Decepticon, just a reprogrammed automaton."

"I don't see what the deal is, I don't. He didn't ask this many questions when the Combaticons showed up... did he?"

"Actually, I thought he asked more. This situation seems pretty straight forward. You know as well as I do that it's Prowl trying to put everything into neat files so that he can translate it into Decepticon movements and troop data. He can be stiff, sure, but he'd never purposefully mean to force you into thinking about things you don't want to remember."

Bluestreak glanced over, his doors fanning downwards. Underneath his feet, the lift shuddered up levels, raising him out of the musty, pressing tunnels, carrying him away of the feeling that the mountain was resting its massive, unrelenting weight on the curve of his shoulders. Air shuddered out of his intakes, and Hound reached out to steady him before he patted him once on the back. "Honestly," he reassured his friend, "I think sometimes Prowl's so intent on solving a situation through logic, that he tends to forget about one obvious fact. Getting what he needs from everyone else around him often ends up running over those little things known as emotions. Since he doesn't let himself get bogged down with them, I'm afraid he forgets that they exist in the rest of us... Look we're almost upstairs. You did well down there."

"I did?"

"Yeah, you did, and if it makes you feel better? I don't really think you look anything like him."

"I don't?"

"No, I was only kidding. You don't stand quite so... stiff. Heh."

"Hound, you better not be making a pipe up the afterburner joke. You know he hates those."

"Who, me?" Hound replied, leaning against the smooth metal of the lift-wall with a good-natured, if telling smile. "I would never do that. I leave it fully up to your imagination to figure out what I was talking about."

* * *

Metal footsteps trailed off into the soft grind of the lift carrying Bluestreak and Hound up to other places in the Ark. Prowl glanced at Dart. "Your presence seems to be the subject of some discussion," he said, pausing to look around the empty hall of the cell bay, as if he expected someone else to appear chattering out of the stonework.

"Gosh, hope you're all getting some good dinner conversation out of it," Dart retorted sharply. Rolling one optic back, she cleared her throat and struggled to tone down her response as she eyed the speaker in the wall, half wondering if he would call Thundercracker again. Okay, that had been downright embarrassing. A whistle of air passed her intakes, and to give herself some time to think, she deliberately turned her shoulder to him. It allowed the tactician a view of her flattening spoiler sourly settling itself flush to the plating on her back. Small gears meshed; they clicked and whirred restlessly until the strip of metal went still.

"Actually, it hasn't been over dinner, per say. I'm afraid, though, that I don't agree with most of the theories," he replied.

"Well, here's one you can take also off the list... I'm not a ninja," she laughed, leaning uncomfortably back against the wall. Her ankles crossed as she fidgeted, then her heel scuffed along the floor. She shifted her weight, and after a few flexes of her grey fingers, her hands ended up stuffed deep within her hip-carriers.

"That, I will concur with."

Prowl would admit that Sideswipe had been right (yes, that was rather unusual, but it happened here and there, rather like hurricanes hitting the coast of Maine.) Both of these robots had plating that was black and grey. Fortunately for his crew and Red Alert's security systems... as well as the mech's sanity - that seemed to be as far as the resemblance went. Nightbird possessed fluid, compact grace; even now, the tactician could recall her striding, spinning, her pointed chin lifted arrogantly in confidence of her abilities and powerful, precise attacks. What had bothered him most about the situation was that it was hard for him to think of Nightbird as merely a machine created by human science, an living thing programmed to respond and react. In fact, he couldn't think that - maybe it was her calculating, flat-amber optics, or...

_Of course. A machine designed to make the world a better place for humanity, and the Decepticons shift it into one that can infiltrate any security system. Ah well. I have no doubt that given time, Nightbird would have become even more dangerous. I can fully admit that it was a relief when we were able to place her back in the hands of her creators, and even more of a relief when they chose to shut her down and place her back into protective custody. _

On the other hand, Dart didn't seem to be any of those things. Nearly all leg, the courier's long limbs truly seemed to be attempting to get the best of her. He'd even seen her stumble over her own toes. Actually, after weeks of observing her in one way or another, he had come to the conclusion that her motions were often triggered into sharp, wasted reaction by inconsequential sights and sounds. Machines did exactly as they were programmed to do; a Cybertronian exhibited quirks of body and mind, like any other living thing. It always made him wonder what when humans were thinking after expert after proclaimed expert in computers leapt on to the blue-carpeted stage of Donahue and spent hours discussing how the Autobots were no more than toasters or walking dishwashers.

Dart shifted her weight from one foot to the other, rocking restlessly back and forth.

He flicked a door panel back, eying her for a moment before he spoke.

"There are other situations that I perceive as making far more sense."

She turned her head to look at him, then shrugged as if she didn't care one way or another. Prowl was fairly certain he'd caught a spark of interest in her optics, though. _Ah, yes... there isn't anyone who truly is not interested to hear what someone else thinks about them. It's often a way to find out more information - they argue with you over what's wrong, or agree with what's correct. _

"Well then, I'll start with the obvious ones that do not fit. I personally don't think that the Decepticons can afford the energy to bring reinforcements over the space bridge right now. If it was operational, they'd be using it to shuttle energon back and forth, not drag in reinforcements, especially not a courier." Ironhide's comment poked a finger back into his mind, and he chuckled softly. "Also, I do not think that Optimus Prime was knocked out and transported to another dimension by aliens, mind wiped, and the matrix used to create you."

The courier stared at him blankly.

_Well, at least I know it's not just me who doesn't think that the joke was quite as witty as Ironhide made it out to be_, Prowl thought. A soft cough cleared his intakes; more seriously, he continued on with the conversation. "So, that leaves me with the last one; support crew on the Decepticon cruiser, rediscovered... not quite what I would have expected, but-"

Dart's burst of laughter slipped quickly through his words and bounded out of the bars in front of her. Prowl inclined his head, unsure what she'd found so quite humorous.

"Uh... _I'm_ not quite what you expected? Right. This observation is coming from someone who can turn himself into a car."

"We both transform into cars," he countered.

Eyeing him carefully from black toe to bi-colored door, Dart hesitated. The sloping brim of her helmet cast a shadow over her optics and allowed them to gleam bright blue for a second before she shook her head, her ponytail scraping lightly over the edge of her shoulder. "True, but... for the record, I'd like to say that I've personally never seen a Datsun cop car the whole time I've been driving around. I mean, sure, a Ford Crown Victoria - they're all over, they're the Oregon enforcement vehicle of choice...Sports cars... er, especially a foreign sports car, nope. You know, I understand the idea behind the whole transforming disguise thing, I do, really, even if I feel like a reject from one of those shows where it's a guy out for justice and his faithful sidekick who happens to be a car... but then again, I also know that purple isn't a very common color on military jets. Well, at least those ones that aren't manufactured by Hot Wheels."

Prowl let his arms cross. His fingers tapped out a soft pattern of patience against his plating. "No one seems to notice the difference. They see an enforcement vehicle traveling and pull over or immediately slow down in front of me to exactly the speed limit, which makes traveling on main thoroughfares not as efficient for me as it should be. I have to theorize that when the computer formatted our alternate modes, it did not have a lot of contextual information to go on."

"Too busy playing Apple Panic, huh?" she chuckled.

Prowl continued speaking, passing by whatever humor there might have been in her observation with relentless logic. "Alternate modes were chosen based on body types, as well as the amount of conversion that would be necessary. When our computer system came to my turn for alteration, it used the nearest appropriate mode it was able to procure in its searching. Now, in regards to the game - Apple Panic is a game, correct? I'm fairly sure I heard a friend mention it once. Teltran was not floppy disk compatible... well, at least not until it was properly modified."

The tactician paused, his doors lifting slightly over his shoulders. A tiny curve nudged at the corner of his lips.

"We did, however, have a decent tape drive backup."

This time, the answer to his attempt at humor came in the form of a slow, cautious blink from the Decepticon, her optics shuttering down until their glow no longer illuminated the faint layer of dust that had collected on the metal of her cheek. Then she opened them again and hitched her shoulders back, skeptically propelling her disbelieving glance down her nose until it touched down on him. It was a familiar look to the tactician - however, once again, he noted that no matter how many mechanisms attempted it, only Ratchet was the master. The medic's gaze could pin anyone flatly against a wall as if the subject of his ire was destined to be an entomological display.

"You're... not serious."

"No. Not at all, I'm afraid. Human data storage devices aren't as compatible with our computer systems as I wish they were at times. It would make getting much of the topographical and geological information that we could use easier. As for this particular joke, I did share it once with a human friend of mine, he thought it incredibly funny."

"Let me guess - your friend majored in Computer Science?"

"No. Actually, Chip is still in college at the moment. So, technically speaking, he's majoring in the field, yes... but it's not his major as of yet."

Dart managed not to say what she was thinking. Which was that to use the mech's own words of technically speaking, Prowl's earlier joke was the sort tossed around computer labs by people who drank high-sugar sodas and played Dungeons and Dragons with dice-rolling programs. _Okay, Dart. Don't think it, don't think it, don't... aw, heck, go ahead and think it. This mech is a total geek. Wait, did he say the guy he knows was named Chip? Like, as in computer chip? Owch. I thought my nickname was bad... nope. He wins. If it's his real name, well - he still wins. _

"Prowl?"

The tactician looked up to see the door sliding open, and the military green form of Hound trotted back into the room. He glanced at Prowl, then at the Decepticon. "Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you again so soon after you had me to hop out of here, but Prime sent me back down to ask if you'd planned to be down here for a while."

"I will be. I need to finish up the last of the grid tests, and that has to be done from this console to make sure they are working in the A bay, as well as here."

Hound nodded. "That's what he figured, so he had me bring down this for you," he said, holding out a cup in his hand to Prowl. "You left it up by Teltran, I guess."

Prowl began to shake his head. There was the echo of his shoulder joints creaking against each other. He made a mental note to go and have Ratchet see what he could do for the problem out when the medic wasn't so busy. Rolling one shoulder back, he reached out his hand and accepted the cup with a nod. The pale-pink glowing contents sloshed around the inside of the rim and then settled back into the depths of the cup. "Thank you. I had forgotten about it."

"Sure, no problem. By the way, Ironhide also said to mention that we got the relays working on the west perimeter. I honestly don't think we needed to be in that big of a hurry. We haven't seen the Decepticons out and about since their last attempt at borrowing stuff that didn't belong to them."

"True, but it only takes a second for them to realize our defenses are down."

"Yeah, I know. I can't help a little bit of wishful thinking. Besides, that never hurt anyone." Quickly, the green Autobot turned his head and Dart was once again surprised to see that open smile offered around the room, even in her direction... and then with a final wave and a cheerful nod, Hound was headed back to the lift once more, trailing only a lighthearted whistle behind him to mark his departure.

The noise that remained was the chuffing sound of the ventilator turbines turning over to move air throughout the ductwork. A cool breeze washed across her nose, and she lifted her head as the rush of oily scented air poured through the bars. It carried with it the bright scent of the energon leaking from the borders of Prowl's held cup. With just one sniff, her mouth felt dry and thick. It wasn't that the Autobots hadn't starved her or let her fail on energy, she'd been given energon sticks through the slot in the wall... but the chips seemed dry and almost tasteless- as if they were the mechanical form of pemmican. She'd eaten that substance once during an American Studies class at the college._ Oh, and once was more than enough. __That stuff was nasty - dried meat and blueberries, rendered with chunks of lard and a bit of marrow, yum... Ugh, sad part is It actually is starting to sound good. Let's try thinking better thoughts; how about unleaded with a side of Mobile oil, chased down with a bit of carb cleaner? No... crud, the pemmican still sounds better. I'm starving. _

"Was I close?" Prowl said suddenly.

"Close?"

"My theory. Was it close?"

Dragging her nose and wistful thoughts away from the energon took the courier a moment. Backing up in the conversation took the courier another obvious moment. "Which theory was yours? The mind wiping alien one?"

"No. The stasis retrieval one."

"It's as good as any other, I guess." she shrugged, wondering if he'd just ring up Thundercracker again and ask him. Not that he'd have a theory on that whole situation... and if he did, they'd laugh at her. "They'll be as close as anything. I'm not sure about much myself. Besides, does it really matter? I'm here, and you're here, and we're all going to be fighting until everyone rusts, right?"

"I hope not," he said after a long moment, moving his wrist slightly and watching the energon slop dangerously close to the edges. He seemed to almost be lost in the glow, optics distant. He didn't notice the bead of fluid that dribbled across his knuckles and pattered down on the floor.

Dart's frame quivered to a frozen standstill. Prowl followed her bird-dog point to the droplet that had spattered next to his foot.

His hand lifted the cup, extended it outwards towards her, watching.

Instantly, her olfactory circuits snatched greedily at the aroma, dragged it back into her nose to hoard it within the back of her throat. It was funny, she never realized before that energy itself had a smell; at least not one that wasn't the sharp, bright scent of ozone before a thunderstorm, or that strange burning odor of crisped electrical wiring. No, this was a smell she couldn't really give words to - just feelings and memories as if you were hungry, and you turned the corner only to find a bakery filled with newly baked bread. Her systems tightened painfully. Inclining her head, she brought the side of her hand up to the corners of her mouth and rubbed fitfully at her jaw, as if by doing that, she could make the sudden ache go away. _Great, it's not like they've not been giving you energy - they have. I'm just... wow, I'm hungry. I could eat a pony. Then again, I probably could eat a pony, but oh yuck, imagine how that would gum up the works now... okay, that's a mental image that will linger for a while. _

"Did you want this? I'm not going to have time to finish it, and I'd rather not have it go to waste."

"I'm... no, I'm fine. No thank you." she lied quickly.

"I didn't ask you that. I asked if you'd like it."

She stiffened at the tone, curling her black lips back. He was teasing her, she decided. Offering her something he knew she wouldn't get. The sweet smell of the energon only managed bring her to a point of infuriation, her systems whined with a hunger that she had forgotten about. She leaned forward, sniffing frantically until her nose nearly touched the bars, and there was a tingle, a subtle warning that made her mouth feel numb. She brought the flat of her hand up and pawed at her cheek, then shot the bars and the Autobot an angry look.

"And just how are you going to give it to me? Are you going to open the door?"

The barrier shimmered between them as Prowl held himself steady, completely composed. His doors didn't even twitch. He merely stood, watching her.

"Yeah. I didn't think so. Gee, really nice of you to offer, though."

"You think I won't give it to you."

Dart pulled back a bit and tucked her chin against her chest, eyed him once more with skepticism. This time, there was no subtleness to her expression; it was blatantly scrawled across her features. "Yeah, well... I don't see you opening the cell and handing it to me, that's for sure."

"No?"

"No, I don't."

"Why not?"

Her spoiler rose tautly up behind her shoulders, then flattened once more. "Because. I'm a Decepticon, right? I'm on the other side."

He didn't say anything. Finally, he just shook his head, and lifted the cup once more, staring into it. Frustration forced a sound from her throat. It rolled out of her like an old steam train coming to a grinding stop on rusting rails. Embarrassed at the whining growl that she couldn't swallow back, she turned sharply away from him and moved away, ending up standing with her nose in the corner.

"Article twenty-six."

A soft hiss of mechanics followed his voice; footsteps echoed, and then drifted off into silence.

When she finally managed to bring herself to look back over her shoulder, the cup sat delicately in the middle of the cell floor, and Prowl was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

The thin crescent moon was barely visible, a tiny sliver of silver nearly hidden by the low hanging clouds. The shadows were long and reached from the trees; cold, dark fingers clawing along the landscape, tearing apart the silent forests with jagged black rents. In the shadowed darkness, deer followed the trails, lipping at the wet twigs that brushed their muzzles; lifting one hoof at a time with the grace of dancers as they drifted onto the edge of the open meadow. At the verge of the forest, they stopped, ears cupped forward with intense concentration. Nervously, a doe stamped, then another snorted out a cloud of breath and swung her head to the left and then to the right, her ewe-neck rising above her narrow shoulders in a curving arch of trepidation.

There was the first hesitant patter of rain against the trees, the ground, the leaves... then it struck metal with the hollow plink of a stick being tapped on an old pipe. The deer turned and bounded desperately away, tails flashing their silent warning flag to any beast nearby who was close to see it.

Slowly, the shadows moved, pooled, and convalesced into a black shape who wore a sharp, arching curve of sleek flank, bracketed by dull grey missiles. Unblinking amber optics summarily dismissed the fleeing deer, gaze returning to the crumbling engine ports of the Autobot base below him, rusting metal half-hidden in the mountain's side. He could make the entrance out as easily as if he was in broad daylight, knew the well worn path to the entrance. Even this far away, his sensors easily collected the scent of oil and rubber, the hot near-taste of energon pumping through the two forms of the guards that stood on either side of the entrance. A quiet rumble escaped him as he watched them, then he lifted his head in the darkness and his jaws seemed to quiver with predatory anticipation, the thrill of knowing that he could see them, smell them... and the Autobots were as blind and stupid to his presence as the rock around them...

Slowly, he closed his mouth and lowered his muzzle between his grey forelegs, rubbing a relay-itch on the side of his jaw with elegant, casual sinuousness. A flicker of light caught the edge of one fang and danced silently down to the tip, illuminated the razor-sharp edge. Tail twitching, he lowered his body to the ground in the classic stalking position of a leopard on the hunt, slipped himself back into the dark feathers of the pine branches.

Cloud closed over the sliver of silver, and the scattered drops of rain banded together to spread themselves across the mountain, silencing all in a heavy-sheeted rush of sound.

* * *

Prowl leaned back into his chair with a heavy sigh. Bringing up one hand, he rubbed gently at the bridge of his nose, pressing the ball of his thumb into the curving dip just below his right optic. 

_Long day. Very long day. Even with Bluestreak swearing that he took my hints to heart... it doesn't matter. The border sensors were down in that spot long enough to fail a warning. Ah, well, I'm letting my misgivings turn in to anxiety, and that's not good, but how long, how long... given the time and the security loop, four hours. That's better than Red Alert's frantic twenty four hours, but it's still too long to prove good. Just because the Decepticons have been quiet doesn't mean that they've given up. I doubt that they'll ever give up until they rule or they're dead, and it is that plain and simple. Not logical to me perhaps, but to most Decepticons logic is a dirty word. _

"Prowl?"

The black and white mech's head turned to peer through the gap between his door and his shoulder.

"Prime. Forgive me. I didn't hear you arrive," he said, easing his chair back with a foot and rising to his feet.

Prime waved a hand, shaking his head and gesturing back to the chair. He did it even though he knew Prowl wouldn't sit down into it again while he was here; the tactician always held himself away from everyone, quietly wearing a sense of distance and decorum around him as if it were a neat and tidy brass button coat; always conscientious to rank and file. In a way, it was a balance against Ironhide's gruff banter and argument - in another way, even after all these years together, it proved awkward.

"I knocked twice. You must have been very deep in thought."

"I was. I admit, that entire mess with the perimeter has me on edge."

"I spoke to Bluestreak. I don't think it will happen again."

"You think I'm worried for no reason."

Optimus' head moved slightly from side to side. "No, I don't. You never worry without good reason."

"The backup sensors would have picked up anything." Prowl replied, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "I cannot help but wonder what they have planned, what strike is coming, who's going to get hurt or killed..."

Prime looked at him sympathetically. "I know."

"I should have checked those borders. If they got in, it's my fault, you know."

"Enough, Prowl. Red Alert missed it as well. There's no need for you to take everyone's problems too."

Prowl regarded him for a moment, let his doors swing back and forth in the slow, thoughtful contemplation of those words. "I'm not," he replied, as calm and impassive as ever. "I do, however, blame myself for the fact that this has a chance of becoming your problem, and you have enough of them, Prime. You don't need any new problems brought on by carelessness. How goes the negotiations?"

Prime nodded, understanding that the subject had been gently directed somewhere else. "They're going. The state has agreed to allow us to drill and try to tap into the geothermal energy of the mountain."

"Good. I don't know where the protesters came up with the ridiculous idea that to drill would cause another eruption. It was explained over and over to them by the top scientists of the USGS that the amount of venting we'd require wouldn't be enough to even cause a significant pressure change in the pockets of ground steam." Prowl's sigh of frustration at the lack of logic made Prime tilt his head and rub his chin, as if he was trying to hide the ghost of a smile behind his impassive faceplate.

"True, but... sometimes logic gets buried under those who can carry a picket sign and shout the loudest."

"I realize that, but I don't have to understand it," Prowl said, shaking his head. "As long as the negotiations are going well, I suppose that's what matters."

"They are. How about you? Did you manage to fix everything down here?"

Prowl shook his head. "I'm still having a problem with the security grids. It is a water problem, I fear. When we diverted the drainage, it seems to have found an odd path through the rock below. Perhaps because of the earthquake swarms we had three months ago, I've surveyed and used ground sonar to try and find the seepage point, but I'm afraid it's gotten into the electrical cables and caused a few minor glitches."

"I see."

"Actually, I'm glad you came down. Maybe you have an idea... I've tried everything I can think of, but I think I've come to an impasse."

"I'm afraid I'm not an architect, you know," Prime replied as he turned to follow Prowl down the hall. The main door into the cell bay clunked aside at his urging.

"No, but you're more pleasant to deal with than Grapple's... over-tenseness."

Prime chuckled softly. "He means well."

"He's a perfectionist by nature," Prowl replied, blowing a soft stream of air out of his intakes and rubbing one hand against his chevron . "Unfortunately, while it makes for good building practices, it makes him extremely difficult to work with at times."

Pausing again, the Autobot leader attempted to ease his way into a response. _No, of course that's not Prowl's attempt at humor. Oh, I can just hear Ironhide's response to that comment... 'Well, that's a possum callin' a rat a long nosed mother...' _He decided that it was best to not reply when the background vents hissed into stillness, and all that remained soundwise was an uneven click of metal on metal. It revealed itself to him as the Decepticon captive, pacing in tight, bobbing circles in the middle of her cell - avoiding the walls, drawing herself even farther inward, her spoiler flat and tight.

Optimus tilted his head. Prowl read the unspoken question there, and twitched a door in response. Prime stopped slowly, and when she finally realized that the two Autobots were right in front of her cell, the Decepticon shuttered her optics in a blink, then growled as if she were a dog. Her weight shifted, she instantly appeared to go into a defensive stance, backing up a few steps, warily watching them.

"You know... I've heard a bit about you, but I'm afraid that no one's told me your name," Prime said.

Prowl saw the girl's optics shutter down into narrow slits as she focused her full attention directly on him, her shoulders shrugging inward with tension. He could practically read her thoughts, he felt.

_Go ahead, you rustbucket. Tell him what my name is. See if I care._

Prowl only shrugged once in reply, his calm blue optics revealing nothing. Dart was so taken aback she didn't know what to do. _He's not going to tell him. He knows and he's not going to tell him. Why would he do that? Isn't he afraid of the consequences?_

"All right. How about we start with my name, then, instead? I'm Optimus Prime."

Dart tore her gaze away from Prowl, forgetting all about thinking where she could legally kick him and backed up a step.

"Optimus Prime..." she echoed.

"Yes. I am -"

"I know who you are. The leader of the Autobots," she said.

"You mean the accursed Autobots," he corrected with a deep, bass chuckle. She stopped growling and took a step back. Prowl's hand came up to his mouth to mask his own amusement; lightly, he rubbed a finger across his chin.

Dart was still trying to come to grips with the fact that the leader of the Autobots had a sense of humor that didn't involve ripping things apart. He was massive, as tall as Megatron...but there was none of that sense Not to mention, there was no great gun on the end of his arm, either. _Probably has it hidden behind his back... _

Prime stood calmly as her gaze went over him, and inclined his head slightly. It was hard to read his emotions with the faceplate. Slowly, his hand came up to rub at his chin thoughtfully... Dart suddenly was reminded of the scene in the film Bambi; the part when the Great King of the Forest was looking down through the snowflakes..

"I was warned about you," she finally said, chewing on her bottom lip.

"By?" Optimus Prime prompted, making her self-serving thoughts of Prowl being Bambitron's mother drift quickly away. She stared down at the ground beneath her feet for a moment.

"Everyone," she finally replied, her voice rough and burred with disuse.

"I see. Well, I suppose that's a good thing if you are a Decepticon."

The girl looked up, craned her neck back, but didn't meet Prime's optics. "Of course. You're an Autobot."

"Were you, at one point?"

Prowl smiled to himself while the Decepticon chirped out a little noise of surprise and there was a clattering noise from the cell. He had to admire Prime's ability to get mechanisms to talk to him... even when they hadn't planned to.

"No," she said, but Prowl saw the uncomfortable shift in her body language, the pull-back and tucked chin that he'd come to associate with... _Yes. There she goes, spoiler down, sidestep away. She's uneasy with her answer. Interesting. _

"No?"

"No... sir," she said.

"Ah," he said, nodding once. She wondered if he believed her for a second, then shrugged, knowing that she'd gotten to be a much better actor of late. _Drama class? Heck, real life wins hands down. _Optimus stood, quietly, looking at her. She twitched slightly under that soft blue almost too knowing gaze. She'd seen him on television, way back when, and now, up close... he reminded of her of someone she'd tried so hard not to remember. She fought the memory back down, but was unable to lose it in the surge of circuits and downloads. Her spoiler rattled. Abruptly, she let out a low growl as the silence stretched itself as thin as pulled taffy, and started to pace back and forth once again on her side of the bars. The two Autobots saw tension rattle every bit of her form; from drawn shoulders to quivering calf...

"Easy. I'm wrong, aren't I?"

She stopped in mid stride and cocked her head slightly to the left. It gave her a quizzical expression that reminded Prowl of a Turbo-hound waiting for an energon chip.

"What?"

"I said I must have been wrong." Prime replied.

The confusion on her face was completely honest and open. "What?"

"Even I make mistakes. I'm usually the first to admit it when I do." Prime turned slightly to look at the patient Prowl. "Isn't that right?"

"Prime..."

The Autobot leader shrugged, then shook his head, light glimmering off of his faceplate. "Prowl unfortunately seems to hate to admit it to me, right, Prowl?"

"I didn't say that." Prowl replied.

"You didn't say anything."

Prowl let out a long sigh as he realized that he wasn't going to win this one, nor be able to change the subject once again, as he had earlier. "You are the first to admit it when you're wrong, Prime. Better?"

Prime chuckled once more. "Now you're offering me merely a matter of perspective."

"I'll agree to that right now." Prowl replied. Prime laughed, clapped the strategist once on the shoulder.

"Good... now let's see that pipe."

An hour passed, and with it a discussion on the finer points of how to weld a water drain. Prime was soon called back upstairs by Ironhide, leaving Prowl to adjust the welding in the ways they'd decided on. Finally satisfied, he dusted off his hands, turned to leave. When he reached the end of the hall, he cast a final glance over his shoulder as if to verify everything was as it should be before he dimmed down the overhead lighting.

Dart's posture caught his attention. She was standing, staring at the bars as if she was observing them from some great distance. One foot was cocked up on her toe, the other flat against the floor. Her hands had dropped back to her sides, and for a moment, he almost thought she was daydreaming about other things far away from here, lost in some pleasant memory. Suddenly, he realized that her hands betrayed her stress - she slowly opened her fingers, then closed them again into fists, opened them once more before she shifted her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.

Prowl had merely touched the pad-key to open the lock when Dart exploded into motion. In the confines of the cell, the courier threw herself back and forth between the walls, all sound and fury and motion as she bolted left to right, then came to a halt in the center of the room and danced backwards, her feet clattering on the metal flooring beneath her. Cable and cord on either side of her pale throat bunched and struggled as she rocked back on her heels; what escaped at first was a deep grinding noise. Her jaw worked from side to side, she brought up her hand, started to make that jerky, pawing motion at the side of her head, clanging the side of her palm against her audios before her legs locked. Behind her shoulders, the narrow strip of metal knocked and rattled; the sound echoed back and forth as if it someone was having difficulties keeping a tight lid on a pressure cooker. With an awkward jerk, she dropped her head below the line of her shoulders and sunk to the floor, her fingertips spread for balance as she crouched.

He heard her panting now; deep gulps of air that telegraphed her distress; then there was a muttering growl before her nose snapped towards the ceiling.

What echoed around the hall was a noise he did not expect. A canine howl shattered out of Dart's throat, forcing itself out of the confines of her narrow chest. Sharply, the noise flung itself past one octave to slide into another. He stood there, hand forgotten over the keypad, listening to the sound.

Slamming her mouth-plates together, she stopped abruptly. Her optics met his, and then she suddenly jerked aside- he saw something there, and of all the reactions he could have calculated; no, of all the responses he could have expected, this was not it.

One hand flew to her mouth, fingers flattening against her lips, and a muffled whine cracked through the space. Utterly embarrassed, she fled into the corner and nosed herself into it, spoiler falling down in a lopsided line.

Ironhide's words echoed back to Prowl. _'Shot himself in the head a few clicks later.' _He tried to get the image out of his head, but he couldn't. His hand suddenly finished the code, and he turned, walked out, footfalls clattering heavily on the metal.

Far below them in the great caverns of the volcano, a pair of tawny optics gleamed with satisfaction and then silent paws picked their way through the rubble below, skirting the brittle brown remnants of a fossilized thighbone.

* * *

The repetitive noises had been broken that night. Normally, Dart managed to shut down for a while in the dead of night, having paced herself into exhaustion.

Tonight, something was different.

Curled up on her side, she twitched, her leg kicking restlessly at the air. She rolled onto her back, then settled back onto her hip, then back onto her back. The edge of her spoiler dug into her shoulders, and she winced, grumbled to herself, and finally laced her fingers together and slid them behind her head, cushioning the curve of solid grey metal from whacking into the metal underneath. The tip of her ponytail scraped against the ground; the sound concentrated itself into the corners of her jaw, overwhelming all the constant background noises that she'd come to associate with the Autobot cell bay...

The odd, random drip of the condensation falling off of the diverting water pipe, the hiss and whirr of the ventilating shaft pushing that recycled air through the corridor, the constant hum of the surging security grid...

Dart's head jerked upwards, and she sucked a sharp burst of air through her intakes and held it. Her own fuel pump echoed in her audios, whooshing and thumping, as loud as a bass drum in the silence.

A swift scramble brought the girl to her feet, and she snorted out the breath of air she'd been holding, then drew another. Sensors clamped down on the draw and sorted through the scents contained within. Her nose twitched slightly as her spoiler quirked to the left silently and displayed the confusion she was feeling.

_That's strange. It smells funny down here. _In a subtle gesture, she quickly lowered her nose to a spot under shoulder and took a slight sniff. Nope, she smelled like... er, a big chunk of metal. _Well, there's one more thing to be thankful about, _she decided. _Okay, how do I end up thinking about random deodorant commercials at times like this - no, better question is why I end up doing it... but it does smell funny here, and not just because I haven't had a bath in a month. What is it? What... wait. It's not that it smells, it's just that there's a lack of a smell... that's it! _

Turning her head from side to side, she sniffed around the room before she finally realized what it was that had changed.

_The bars. They're not on. _

That's what it was, the sharp, electrical scent was no longer lingering in the air - nor was there that soft, humming pulse overlaying every other sound. Casting a nervous glance over her shoulder, she chewed at the bottom of her lip and eyed the bars distrustfully. _Why would it be off? Maybe it's just shut down a bit to conserve energy, or they've adjusted it to work differently than it used to. Prowl's been working on the systems all the time down here, he must have changed something from the other night. I mean, there's no possible way those bars could not be working. That guy's like a math professor I had - the sort that double checks to the inch how much ink is left in his Bic. It has to be working. It's got to be something I don't know about, and I'm not about to test it and get tossed across the floor into the wall again... _

Her hand lifted, fingertips extended towards the grid. She got close enough to nearly brush the bars, and then yanked her hand back and stood; her left thumb rubbed nervously against her palm.

_I said I didn't want to test it, really. Those things hurt. Thundercracker was right, they can knock you flat on your... _

_But... if they're not on... they have to be on._

_What if they're not? You have a chance that you might escape. Do you want to be here for another month? How about a year, how about the rest of your life? Right here... in this..? _

Grey fingers fluttered millimeters from the bars. Dart chewed her lip again, then wincedin anticipation and got ready for the painful sensation, the knockback of shock that would course through her systems and slam her mouthplates together in a rattle before the surge dragged her off her feet and threw her unresisting into the nearest corner. Three times was enough of that, she'd learned.

_They're still sort of glowing... not like they were, though. _

Her fingers started to come down on the bars before she caught herself and turned the back of her hand to it instead. _Right. That time you grabbed that stock fence and shocked yourself silly because your hand tensed and you couldn't let go... well, this time, no one's around to knock you off of it. _

_No one is. You better help yourself. _

Optics shuttered partially shut, she thrust the back of her hand against the bars as if she was shoving it into an open firepit and bracing for the burn.

Nothing.

Her optics flew open and flared a deep blue. Again, she tapped her hand to the bars, then rested it against them. They struggled to glow green, but then the last of the retained charged slipped from them and they just thrust from floor to ceiling, dead and grey. Dart raised one foot, then lowered it, brought herself to take a stuttering step forward. Up on her toes, she was ready to bolt at the first noise; the moment when she realized it was all a trick. Before she could stop herself, she danced a nervous sidestep, the tips of her feet clattering on the metal below. It echoed around the cell-bay like a hall of tap dancers. Forcing herself to stand still, she pushed her hand forward and shoved at the outlines of the door within the bars, holding a gulp of air deep within her cooling systems.

Creaking as if it was built with rusted hinges taken from an old, weathered shack, the door swung outward.

Unable to believe it, the courier stood and stared at that open hole for a good fifteen seconds. Finally, she edged forward a step, then another, and turned herself sideways, her spoiler clamped against her back. She didn't even swing the door open farther, only edged cautiously through and continued to do the mechanical equivalent of holding her breath until she was standing in the middle of the hall.

_Whoa. I'm out. I'm out... _

She nearly flung herself immediately into a sprint. Every circuit was screaming that the faster she was out of this place, the better off she'd be. _Don't do that. You do that, you'll get caught before you know what's happened. Slowly. Think. Use your head... how do you get out of here? What do you do? Where's the door to the outside... think, think... gosh, I have no idea, how - wait, Thundercracker! He's got to know how to get out of here, if he's been here before- besides, I can't leave him or Reflector behind. I can't._

_But I don't know how to find them... wait a minute, maybe– Prowl. He's been in and out of here and back and forth to wherever they've held the others... but... I don't know how I can make him tell me where they are. If I hide and he comes back maybe I could make him tell me. _She stared around the cell bay, hunting for a weapon_. Maybe if I pulled that drainpipe off the wall, I could bash him on the head, knock him out and then force him to lead me upstairs... _

_Yeah. Let's think this plan through, Dart. I hit him on the head with that pipe - er, assuming I can pry it off the wall - I don't think I'll knock him out. Knowing my luck, I'll bonk him, he'll look at me like I've lost what's left of my mind and toss my hindquarters right back into that cell. Wait, do giant robots even get knocked out by whacking them in the head? Huh, I did... so... it must work, but whether or not I'd manage to hit him hard enough is another story. Well... I won't know unless I try, right? _

Hurriedly trotting to the wall with the pipe, she quickly wrapped her fingers around it and gave a sharp yank. The welds rattled and groaned, but only budged an inch, if that. Dart she let go, stared at her hands, and with a determined grunt, the courier once again locked her fingers around the metal and pulled backwards with all of her strength. Her heels scrabbled on the floor, she twisted and yanked, her spoiler flat against her shoulders with the strain.

The pipe obviously wanted to remain welded to the wall.

Desperately, Dart finally decided to place her foot on the rock beside the damp pipe. Levering her hip into position, she shoved again and again; unfortunately, all she managed to do was nearly pull her fingers from the back of her hand right before her grip slipped.

Her rump met the floor first, and she fought to right herself in a gawky tangle of clattering limbs. One ankle was crossed over the other one. Two hops sent her back onto her nose, this time, face down on the floor. Catching herself on her arms, Dart kicked to untangle her legs, and then smacked her fist into the plating beneath her out of utter frustration.

_Great. Maybe I could just con him into walking over to here and hitting his own head for me a few times until he knocks himself out... This isn't going to work. How the heck am I going to find out where they're keeping anyone unless I can get the information from someone? And how am I supposed to get it if the only person I'm knocking out with this pipe is me? _

Shifting her weight, she started to bring her legs underneath her to stand. Tucked into a rather sloppy runner's crouch, she wiped her forearm across her optics, ended up with a line of smeared dust across the bridge of her nose. A faint drift of odor tugged at her attention, and instinctively, she bent her head and sniffed at the floor.

_Wait a minute... _

Pressing her nose to the plating, Dart took another sniff, letting her sensors sort through the layers of scent there, and then lifted her head. _I can't knock him out, but maybe I don't have to. He's been here, and he's walked all through this area, and I know for a fact he's gone to wherever they're keeping Thundercracker... So, all right, I can track him with my nose, and ha, okay, this is coming in sort of handy, the whole sniffy thing... ew, yuck, didn't want to sniff that, but - look, he's going to help me get out of here after all! _

_Better hurry, though. Someone's bound to come in, and find out I'm gone._

With a push of her fingers, she bounced upright and swung into a purposeful trot towards the door at the end of the hallway. There was a keypad there, but it seemed as if whatever the problem with the cells was, it had also affected the pass-code box. The blue light in the corner wasn't blinking - she guessed that the technology was the same at both bases, and that meant it was unlocked or off-line. There was one more moment of rising panic that soon passed when she realized that you had to pull on the door - not shove it into the room. After that, with a little backtracking, Dart managed to find the lift itself.

_Yeah, who knows if that works, and if there is backup power to that, it might be locked down or need a passkey. Better to take the stairs. They have to have stairs in this place... _

They did, and Dart shot up them in a flash, the clatter of her heels going abruptly silent as the heavy door clicked back into place behind her.

"Thundercracker! Pssst! Wake up, wake up!"

Rolling onto his side, the blue jet-mech offered only a sharp grunt as he rolled over and tried to tuck himself back under the corner of his wing. "Go away, go on," he muttered. "Trying to get some shut-down here."

"Come on, wake up... hey, come on, this is serious," Dart replied, her spoiler rattling as she cast a nervous glance back over her shoulder. Nothing had happened yet, or seemed to have happened yet... the corridor was quiet and dim.

"You're not worth the extra twenty credits..." Thundercracker mumbled, throwing his arm over his head.

"Thundercracker!" she hissed. "It's me. Dart!"

Blearily, the jet mech lifted his head, optics slowly and reluctantly filling with a red glow. "What do you want? Can't you see that I'm–" he shifted his hands behind his back and sat up, shaking his head as if he'd suddenly realized where he was. "Behind bars, and... you're on the other side of them? How'd you manage that?"

"Uh... I got out."

"No kidding? Wow, you did pick up some powers of observation from Screamer when he hauled you around in him, didn't you. Okay, yeah, you got out. What I'm asking is, how did you manage to... wait, okay, you didn't go and seduce the guards, did you? Heh, I didn't think you had it in you."

Peering at him through the greenish glow of the bars, the courier cast a quick glance over her shoulder and then nervously focused in on him again. "I think there was a short down on my end - I know they've been having problems with water getting into their power cables down there, and so when I got up the bars didn't zap me when I - uh... what?"

"Yeah, that's just what I figured. Never mind. Weird, you should have tripped something when you made your way up here. These damn Autobots keep layering security cams and new systems all the time. Must be a bad short. Hey... wait a minute, why'd you come here if you got out?"

Slanted blue optics shuttered in a surprised blink. "Er, I came to find you, and Reflector."

Browplates met in the middle of Thundercracker's forehead, and his wings straightened out to the sides. His ailerons lifted and clicked for a moment in a display of aircraft laden confusion. Then, as if he couldn't be bothered to finish puzzling the rest of it out, he shrugged his shoulders and clambered to his feet. "Okay, then. So, why don't you go and deactivate my cell and we'll figure out the next move? Won't do us much good to get out if we sit here and talk long enough to get caught and tossed back in again."

The courier snorted and paced a few steps to the side, staring at the bars. "Right, right... how? I mean, how do I shut these off? Where's the button?"

"It's not a button. That would be too easy, right? It's a four digit code," he said, jerking his thumb to indicate a console panel flush in the wall close to the door she'd come in from.

"It's coded?" Dart blurted, shaking her head. Eyeing the panel warily, she looked as if she half expected the buttons to come flying out the wall and dig into her flanks in imitation of poison arrows. "Wonderful. I don't have any idea how to break a code."

"Uh, you don't know how to break a four-digit code?"

Frustrated, the courier ground her mouthplates together. "No. I don't. And hey, wait a minute. Are we supposed to give them information like our names and everything when they ask for it?"

"Why not?" he shrugged. "It's not like they won't figure all that stuff out. Sorry, no one stays mysterious for long when there's less than fifty Cybertronians on the whole planet. Huh, you are serious about the code thing, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm serious. Besides, I left my magic Captain Crunch decoder ring in my other pocket, sorry," she retorted. Rolling one optic back, she flicked open her left hip pannier and made a big show of thrusting her fingers in it and rooting around. Coming up empty handed, she extended her palm out towards him. "Okay, I even double checked, and it's not here. If you like, I'll run back home and see if I can find it, then come back and try again to let you out."

He chuckled. "Touchy, aren't you?"

"Uh, a bit. I just want to get out of here..."

"Don't worry. I've got it covered. Here's where I use my vast store of knowledge about Autobot security to get us on our way. Sure, it's a four digit code, but they've never changed it since I was here last time..." he trailed off and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then snorted. "Come to think of it, that doesn't speak too highly of the expectations I'd ever escape, does it?"

Trotting over to the wall, Dart placed her palm beside the keypad and stared at it. Unfamiliar symbols met her gaze, and she shifted her weight. She could no more read what the symbols on the keypad were than she could have read Japanese kanji. "You know the code, then?" she asked, politely sidestepping any bits of conversation that might lead her down a road of trouble. "Great! What is it?"

"Hmm, let me think... let's see. First blue button, first again, third red, second green," he replied. "Sorry, can't quite read it from over here, I'm going by memory."

Her finger poked down on the blue button.

"You know, hopefully entering the wrong code doesn't trip anything."

Dart froze, staring at her finger. "Will it zap me if it does?"

"Doubt it. Somehow, I don't think the Autobot leadership advocates memorizing security codes through negative reinforcement."

"Oh... okay. Blue. Blue, red, green? Got it. Did that work?"

"Don't know. Want to check the bars for me?"

"No, I don't. You check them."

Slowly, the dark mech reached out, setting his face pre-emptively into a wince before he touched the bars. "Well, what do you know. Seems to have worked." With an abrupt push, Thundercracker shoved the cell-front aside. She barely caught them before they slammed back into the wall with a resounding clang, and carefully rested the frame against the wall as the bulk of the jet-mech propelled through, his wings stiff and taunt to either side of him. The cockpit down the center of his chest was streaked with dust, and he wiped a hand down it, brushed it off and lifted his head to cast a baleful look at the cell behind him. "Okay. Better hurry. They're going to figure out something's up, soon."

"I know. I know. I mean, I sniffed my way up here - I was following Prowl, but I don't know where the exit is. Or the entrance, or anything. You know, right? You've been here before."

"Yeah," he said, scratching his head. "Unfortunately, the only way I know out is through the front door. Never been through the back one. If there is a back door on this place."

"Maybe Reflector knows... we can find him, ask if he's seen a better way out," she offered, turning on her heel.

Thundercracker snatched to grab the helpful handle of Dart's spoiler and missed, fingers closing on air as she whisked past him and started to trot down the hall. "Whoa there. Listen, we can't go traipsing through this base to find him. I don't know where the other cell bays are, and they had orders to separate us, remember? Longer we stay here, the more likely that they'll find us and toss us back in. Time to get out of here."

"But we just can't leave him behind. That's... that's not okay," she said, turning an uneasy frown in his direction as she stopped in mid-stride, raising her foot. "I mean, he can't be that far, maybe we should head up a level or two and look?"

"Oh yeah. Let's traipse cheerfully around the Ark and ask for directions to the last Decepticon prisoner. No one will mind. Heck, tell you what, how about I reach over, hit that pad, ring up old Prowl and ask him? Are you totally insane? You want to get caught again?"

"No!" she barked wildly and whirled in place to eye him; her spoiler slipped flat against the curve of her shoulders. The jet mech shot back his own exasperated glare over his shoulder, sighed, and then continued on forward towards the main door of the cell bay.

"Well, fine - you do what you want to do, Dart, but - me, I'm getting my afterburners out of here, and if you get picked up again, well..."

Pivoting on his heel, the jet mech hurried himself forward towards the door. Dart glanced after him, started to follow. The green bars caught her attention; she hesitated, winced slightly, and turned her head to stare back down the hall where the rest of the cells hummed, rigid bars oppressively silent. _What if he's in there, and we just... no, I can't do that, I can't make someone stay in..._

_Click. _

Dart actually felt the pressure pad give under the edge of her foot, before her audios registered the noise. Immediately rolled her weight back onto her heels, but the corridor flooded with light and burst alive with the shriek of the alarms. Rearing back, she spun in a complete circle, one hand pressed to her brow to shield herself from the bright light. Gaping, she managed to come up with something dutifully intelligent to say under the circumstances. "Oops."

"Oh, wonderful," Thundercracker groaned. "Nice going, dimwit. Great, I should have listened - no one ever said you think fast."

"What do we do now?" she yelped, backpedaling until she was right behind him, lifting her feet high and dancing small nervous sidesteps; it appeared she didn't even want to set them down on a floor ever again.

"I'm all for flying around like a maniac until we find a door or a window," Thundercracker snorted, lunging for the handle of the door to the cell bay. His shoulder wrenched it down so hard she heard the door itself warping along the hinge-points, and he fought with it to finally yank it open, the bottom edge of the door digging into the flooring below.

"Okay," she gulped, wincing as the sirens began to wail, a pack of hungry wolves closing in on a lame elk. "But... Reflector?"

The jet-mech had already forced himself halfway out the partially open door, the long edge of his dark wings scraping along the edge of the frame. Paint curls shredded onto the floor, drifting across the rusting plates, curlicues of blue. "If we find him on the way out, we find him, but we're not going out of our way, understood? Good. Now, move it, girl!"

* * *

"Quiet night."

"It is," Prowl agreed. He leaned back against the rocks and stared up at the sky. Grey clouds shaded to dull violet on the horizon. A stray raindrop spattered against the dry dust next to his elbow, just one random tap of water that pattered down from the sullen, overcast evening. Off in the distance, a killdeer called; the grey and brown speckled bird wailed out its concern over the falling night in whistles that echoed mournfully across rock and stone. "Too quiet, really."

Ironhide just shrugged. "Aw, Prowl. Sometimes I wish you didn't have to be so worried all the time."

"It's my job," Prowl replied with a slight smile; slowly, he sat up and leaned forward slightly, his elbow rasping against his knee. "I'll be honest with you, as I always am. Sometimes, I wish it didn't have to be. However, it is, and I will do it to the best of my abilities." Blue optics gazed out over the mountain, and then the tactician's focus narrowed in on a pair of headlights driving up the road. He instantly recognized them as Bumblebee's. _He's out late tonight. Wonder what movie him and the boy went to see? _

"Silver Bullet," Ironhide replied.

"What?"

"The movie they went to see. Silver Bullet."

"Oh did I say that out loud?"

"Yeah, you did. It's okay, I can always tell when you're thirty thoughts ahead of yourself."

Prowl nodded. His friends were used to his reactions, he supposed, and he sighed, continued. "Right now, my thoughts are of the sort saying that it's been too quiet. Megatron's up to something."

"Is he ever not up to somethin'?"

Prowl let a chuckle escape his throat as he glanced over at his old friend. "No," he admitted, "I suppose that was a rather inane thought."

"Nah. I know what you meant. I agree, it has been too damn quiet for my likin'. If they aren't blowin' stuff up, you get the feelin' that it's because they're stockpilin' more explosives."

"Exactly."

"How's the prisoners doin'?"

Prowl turned slightly to look at the older Autobot. "That's a change of subjects that you seem to do often to me lately."

"Nah, not really. We're still on the subject of Decepticons, aren't we?"

"I suppose," Prowl agreed, a slight hesitation to his voice.

"So, how is she doin'?"

"She? I thought you said prisoners," the tactician replied with a slight smile.

"I know what the other two are doin'. Also know that what they keep tellin' me to do to myself is physically impossible," Ironhide laughed. Carefully twining his fingers behind his head, he settled back onto the ground and looked up at the sky. "Darn, looks like it's going to rain again. Well, at least that pipe's draining correctly."

"Physically...?" Prowl repeated, tilting his head and letting the angle of his chevron betray his confusion for a second. "Ah, that... oh, yes, well..." Ironhide's amusement at the tactician's hesitance was obvious; the old Autobot grinned and itched comfortably at a rust spot on his arm.

"Yeah, but hey... bet she hasn't said that to you, then."

"Not at all. She hasn't said much in a few weeks, I'm afraid - instead, she paces constantly. If I had to say anything, it's that the stress levels have increased to the point where she's unable to cope with them. Something odd happened tonight, though..."

"What?"

"She howled."

"Howled? At you?"

"No, no... not at me at all. I don't think she knew I was even there, strangely enough." Prowl's doors flicked restlessly as he recalled that noise that had echoed through the silent rooms. It still echoed there; cold fingers poking into his audile workings. "It almost sounded like... what are they called here, ah yes - coyotes."

"Like a brush-wolf? Seriously? She isn't a cyber critter, is she?"

"No. Her alternate mode is a car."

"That's what I thought. Weird." Ironhide agreed with a look. "Don't think I've ever heard anythin' like that before."

"Nor I. At least..." Prowl trailed off, lost in thought once again.

"What?"

"I don't know. Something I should recall... " Prowl's thoughtful gaze brightened and his posture echoed his intenseness. He knew he should remember. It was something important, something that at one time he'd found interesting, perhaps. As if he'd scrawled out a note to himself on an old datapad, stuck it into his desk drawer and never gotten back to it. The tactician honestly didn't know, and Prowl didn't like not knowing anything. With a small frown, he sat up straight and rubbed at his temples with his fingers, as if by that simple gesture he could find the memory and bring it back.

"Gettin' old."

Prowl sat up even straighter, his doors flaring out as if to dispel the red mech's words.

Ironhide's laughter echoed upwards into the encroaching night. A few drops of rain spattered thickly on their metal hides as the sky began to fulfill its promise Prowl held out his hand, watched the water slide through his joints and pool in his palm. When he opened his fingers, it slipped through them as if it was quicksilver. Briefly, that sense of despair he sometimes carried and couldn't fully hide about this whole war vanished as he concentrated on the patterns the liquid made in his hands. Random moments that were not random - anyone else would have said it was merely water; he saw patterns in the way the drops rolled, knew exactly how the minute tilt of his fingers changed the path.

Lightning flickered in the distance.

Instead of thunder, the shriek of a siren shattered the night. Prowl was instantly on his feet; the grip of his rifle was in his hand. Ironhide creaked upright seconds behind him, and both Autobots found themselves eyeing each other; their words escaped in unison.

"The base!!!"

* * *

Bolting down the maze of corridors, Dart's optics were locked onto the yellow flare of the mech's heels as she ran after him.

_Almost there. Luck has held with us, it looks like. Thank whatever metallic gods we are supposed to worship. Hmmmm. Now that's a thought. Remind me to ask someone if we have religion... just so I know what or who we pray to. Well, not that he'd probably listen to me anyway, that never seems to work. Heh. Maybe it's the great Lord Pong or something like that. __No doors shutting yet... They don't expect you to get out...so they haven't sealed against it. Hey, I guess they don't have to - look who they have as their security-_

_Click._

"Did you step on another one of those things?!" Thundercracker yelled, throwing up an arm to shield his optics as the lights and sirens bellowed in their faces.

"Yes! No! I mean, yes, I did, no, it wasn't on purpose!"

"You might want to think of hauling your skinny skidplate off the ground and flying!" he snapped,

In a valiant effort to avoid another series of pressure plates, Dart skidded along the smooth floor, nearly colliding with the wall. She was scrabbling awkwardly, sidepassing as if she was a long-clawed dog on the kitchen linoleum, losing footing at every stride. The click of her feet on the metal was deafening to her own sensors. _Everyone knows exactly where we are, and if they don't, between his jets and my rattling feet they sure will. Great._ The steady scream of the sirens bounced through the base, rising to an anguished shriek before it settled back to a whimper.

"What do we do?" she yelled up at the jet-mech.

"We get the hell out, that's what we do! Come on, follow me!"

Dipping his wing, he half rolled onto his side as he took the corner. Her hip scraped along the doorframe as she cut it tight in an effort to catch up to him. There was enough room for the two of them to charge down the hallway side by side. "Oh good, you know where the front is?"

"I have a good guess where it is."

"Wait, what? You have a good _guess_? Don't you _know_?"

He turned his head and shot a scowl at her from underneath the curve of his shoulder guard. "Hey, this hasn't happened to me before, give me a break."

"What hasn't happened? I thought you had escaped out of here! I mean, didn't you say that?"

"Well, not exactly. I got traded back for Hoist, come to think of it. Can you believe that, my worth is about the same as a potbellied green tow-truck? Escaped out of the Autobot base? Ha ha! I love your sense of humor, Dart. Seriously, though... it's one of those things that we don't experience too often, escaping on our own... I could kind of get to like this."

"I'm not being funny! I thought you knew!"

"You weren't? My mistake," he replied, slamming his leg forward and blasting an arrow of fire out of his heel jets in an effort to brake himself before the next turn. His wings rattled as his ailerons pitched up to help with his mid-air stop. "Take a left here. No, not that left, your _other _left. Okay, I have to admit it, you're a girl after all, aren't you? You're horrible at following directions."

The courier blew a sharp snort out of her intakes. "Hey, I could have left you in there," she growled, skidding around the next corner so fast her legs went out from underneath her and her heels shot sparks behind her.

"Eh, you would have never made it this far."

"I would have!"

"What, running over every pressure plate in the whole base? Yeah, you bet you would have escaped on your own."

"Well, at least I have a better– Thundercracker, look out!"

The portly green Autobot standing in the middle of the corridor glanced up and saw the two Decepticons barreling at him; he let out a strangled beep, a high-pitched horn of obvious shock and surprise. Throwing up his hands, he made a valiant effort to ward off the inevitable collision between him and the dark mech. Thundercracker's feet snapped underneath him, the force of his kickback bent him nearly in half. His wings stretched against the air, pumping wildly on their hinges; his ailerons flicked forward and back with the awkward backpedaling flap of a hawk that realized that the rabbit it was starting to pounce on was actually a flailing water-buffalo.

Heel-thrusters flared, and the Autobot yowled as the noxious smell of peeling, bubbling paint filled Dart's olfactory sensors. Thundercracker's jets had seared brutal stripes up the Autobot's upper thigh and mid-section, and the jet-mech's face was now twisted into an ugly smile.

"Well, speak of the fat little green devil," the Decepticon jet laughed; and the lighter chaff of his comments to Dart blew aside. One hand flashed out to grab the mech in front of him by the neck. "Dart, meet Hoist. Hoist, say hi to Dart, but make it quick. You know, there's some irony in this. They trade you for me last time, and I get laughed at by everyone back at base, so hey, someone's smiling on me since I get to knock your block off on the way out of here this time."

"Urk," was Hoist's reply as his hand came up to try and pry Thundercracker's fingers off of his throat.

"Aw, that's not a hi, that's you choking. Hang on, let me pound open your mouth for you," the jet said with a sneer as he lifted his free hand over his head.

Dart had slid to a stop that ground her heels into the metal floor beneath her, and set off another pressure pad. The alarm shrieked out its displeasure at being trod on once again; Thundercracker had the unfortunate position to have his audios right next to the grille of the speaker. He startled and his grip shifted - Hoist's heavy, round chest plate twisted the jet-mech's stance, throwing his balance completely off. His fist waved over his head, his fingers released enough for the green Autobot to twist and kick himself free and land on his skidplate on the floor, air whooshing out of his intakes. He inched backward on his rump and stared up at the two Decepticons.

"You hit another one?" Thundercracker winced, pointing down at her offending foot. "How many does that make?!"

"Five," she admitted sheepishly.

"Fly already, will you?"

"We've gone over this. Come on, let's just get out of here."

"No, you've gone over every alarm system in this whole frigging base. But, yeah, time to really bail," he agreed. Casting a quick glance down at Hoist, he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Be glad. Twinkletoes the wonder courier there saved you a knuckle energon chip."

Hoist lifted his chin. "I'd thank her," he said with as much dignity as he could muster, "but I doubt you two Decepticon buffoons would be able to fathom the compliment. I could have possibly given you the 'you're incredibly amazing' salute, but I'm rather afraid I've pulled the cables in my middle digit falling back onto the floor."

"Buffoons? Why you ugly little ground-pounder, I should beat your head into the wall."

"Come on! Leave him alone already!" Dart yelled over her shoulder, as she sprang forward towards the next door. Another click, and this time the alarms wailed as if in mortal agony. Footsteps echoed heavily over the metal ground, and the voices of mechanisms began to get louder.

Hoist was slammed into the wall as Thundercracker lunged to follow her.

"What the-"

Ahead Red Alert begin to shriek.

"They're out! Decepticons in the base!" the red and white mech shrilled, flinging up his hands as the two robots hurtled past him into the cavern's main entrance. The great computer screen on the wall pulsed blue with each wail from the security system, flashing in time to each howl.

"Oh... great," she yelled, panic sinking in. "Will the entrance fry us?"

"What?"

"The entrance. Will it fry us? I mean, are there lasers, right?"

"I'm willing to take the chance right now."

Kicking himself into the air, he shot forward, roaring towards the entrance. The jets on his heels were that dull orange color as he threw himself out into the open air of twilight. Dart bounded after him, head down, wincing and bracing just in case there was a tripwire or something set there...

"Hold it!" ordered a voice.

Wildly, Dart skidded to a stop in front of Hound, her leg lifted like some strange cybernetic deer. Her optics gleamed a muddy cobalt as she stared around him, trying to catch her bearings. The high pitched cry of the siren rose and shrieked in her audios; the girl whined and recoil a bit as Teltran-One raised the volume a notch. Slowly, cautiously, her head lowered, her shoulders dropped, and she glanced past the green mech, the entranceway beckoning her with the smell of fresh air. It wouldn't be much, it would be a mere sprint, a leap, two jumps past him and then...

Hound's hand went to his gun, and he lifted it to center on her chest.

"Stay right there."

The air was clean and she could smell it, the pines, the rocks, the outside, devoid of all mechanical smell. Two steps, a bound, and he was between her and freedom, and if they caught her she'd go back in the cell...

_Back into the box..._

Tinny smell. Overwhelming, like so much blood. Try to draw breath; instead, suck down salty liquid, cough, no, drown. Drown in it, claw your hands upwards to try to break the surface for air, too late, trickle down to find a room, with no windows and pitch black walls.

Dart's optics narrowed and flickered a pale blue as she met his gaze. Her lips curled back from her mouth-plates, and slowly, she began to growl. It vibrated out of her throat, and her look became almost feral. Hound had the sudden realization that in front of him was something at the breaking point, ready to snap.

She leapt forward. At first he thought she was going for him, and automatically threw up his arm to protect his throat, an oddly instinctive gesture. She snarled, but avoided him completely, lunging past him. A shape loomed in front of her- Optimus Prime, appearing out of nowhere. Dart threw her feet out into a sliding stop, tossed her head from side to side, rearing back and dancing up on the tips of her toes. Hound held the image of the Autobot leader shouldering his rifle, hoping that the image would keep her still long enough for him to get backup.

The pause lasted another millisecond. He heard her growling softly in confusion at Prime's sudden appearance.Her head cocked slightly, and then this odd, almost- not stable grin appeared on her face. Hound had noidea what she was thinking as she extended her neck out, nose tilted. He watched her take a half step, her head turning slightly, heard her intakes heave and draw the air. Insight revealed itself to him. _That's... that's what she did, back at the canyon when she saw us... It wasn't sight, it's all... She's sniffing at it, and... she can scent! _

"Hey! Over here!" he yelled, trying to distract her, to yank her attention back onto him and not allow her senses to break the lie her optics would tell her.

"No," she told him flatly.

_No smell. It has no smell._

He lunged for the console, smacking his palm down hard on the alarm pad to throw up the cross-grid. Nothing happened.

The girl gathered herself and leaped through the hologram, shoulder down, ready for the block in case she'd been wrong. Instead, she landed past and stumbled through, her knees flexing in an effort to take the blow of her weight. Her optics shot glances from side to side, completely focused on the horizon beyond, where Thundercracker's heel jets flared against the dark backdrop of the pines.

_Yes! Free, free, free... run! _

An odd, thin cry of delight escaped her throat, and she staggered a step or two before she could drop her head and raise her elbows, to find the rhythm of her run. After so many weeks spent pacing, her balance seemed awkward and rough - but she found it, gathered herself, and sprang forward. Hound burst out of the Ark behind her, followed by the grey robot... the one she didn't like too much.

The green mech was yelling; Dart could hear him shouting at her to stop, whoa, stop. No way was she stopping, forget that, not now, not while she was free and loose. Under her feet, rocks scattered; her legs pushed off and threw her down the open path - the crisscrossed tire marks of Autobots were scuffed aside with her forward drive. Gulping down the deliciously fragrant smell of pine, her optics were locked onto the glow of Thundercracker's heels, growing distant as he hurtled towards the ridge of the mountain.

The green mech's voice cried out one more time, she turned her head to see him sprinting towards her, waving his hands, and Dart couldn't help but smile in a dismissive way. Like he thought he was going to run after her? _Well, that's just –_

Something smashed into her from the side.

Dart attempted to spin to face the green mech, staring at his hands and expecting to see a smoking pistol. Instead, the world tilted up and down, and her chin slammed down on metal as her body was whipped into the air. Flailing wildly, she found there was no purchase, instead, she hurtled through the air and smashed into the ground. Fear and desperation, not skill, was what managed to throw her out of range as a gigantic, taloned foot slammed down inches from her head. Yelping in terror, she threw up her arm, lunged and scrabbled back on her feet.

This time the vicious blow speared her easily from the side; she saw, rather than felt the long scimitar of metal it as it smashed into her chest and shoulder, puncturing her side like a can to catch finally underneath her flank, sparks shooting from her metal as the tip hooked under the edge and tossed again her into the air. Pain exploded in the left side of her chest.

Hitting the ground so hard she felt her spoiler dig into her shoulders, Dart could only suck frantically at the air, sprawled ungracefully on her back. Dazed and disorientated, she coughed; something wet was running down the side of her chest. Before she could even realize what was happening, metal gleamed over her head, and a roar shattered through her audio sensors.

Massive jaws dived for her throat.

She threw up her arm over her optics, as if she could hide behind it.

Rounding the corner of the base, the strategist took in the scene in an instant. "Stop!!" Prowl heard himself yell, knowing it would do no good at all, but still throwing up his hand in a gesture that strangely mirrored the Decepticon's own desperate attempt to keep her tenuous hold on her life.

Teeth closed with a ringing snap in front of her face as Dart peered out from behind her arm. A metal dinosaur, head like a battering ram, fangs like a imaginary dragon of myth, stood before her. A lick of flame curled up from between that dagger-lined muzzle as it towered over her.

"Decepticon," it rumbled, in a voice that rivaled the volcano behind it.

"Is running away." another voice added matter of factly, in perfectly understandable English.

The massive head lowered and it stared into her face, jaws less than a meter from her. Slowly, it opened its mouth. A miasma of energon and internal fluids washed over her, nearly overwhelming her olfactory systems. It reeked of mechanical carrion, crushed and rusting cars scattered in an abandoned junkyard. Dart tried hard not to flinch, struggled not to peer up into the optics that had locked on her own. With a low whine, she turned her head aside, twisting awkwardly as she cowered back and flattened herself to the ground. Her back hurt, her chest hurt, and the noise that gurgled out of her throat was followed by a bubble of blue on her lips. It popped and dribbled slowly down her chin. Diagnostics were flashing the warning signs in the corner of her optic - linkage was torn, broken, fuel lines ruptured... she could actually feel the moisture collecting under her chestplate.

"Decepticon cowards always run. Slag say, we finish it off!" a third voice roared. The Triceratops pawed at the ground, slinging rocks behind him. Green foam and blue liquid spattered from his horn and across his broad face, and he reared into the air, pointing the tips of his feet downward as he eyed the black and grey robot flailing in the dirt before him.

Tail lashed out, struck flank, slammed the frilled beast back onto all fours. There was the push of massive bodies against each other, dust flew and scattered, and she flattened back against the ground and cowered.

Slowly, the wedged head reached out until it filled her vision with a jagged row of serrated teeth.

_I wonder what it feels like to be bit in half, _Dart thought. _I'm guessing it doesn't feel good... _

Shuttering her optics tightly until all she could see was black, she tucked her chin to her chest and coughed out another sticky wad of goo.

"You howl."

The voice was a low growl, rolling up from the belly of the beast.

Statement, not a question. The courier opened one optic, exposing a frightened sliver of blue.

"Yes, I-"

"No talk," it- no, he - ordered, cutting her off. One huge optic narrowed and reflected her back to herself. She watched the trickle of fluid wind slowly down her chin, but didn't dare raise her hand to wipe it off, in case that small movement sparked some sort of instinctive prey response.

It moved one absurdly tiny forearm and extended a claw to point down the mountainside.

"Run. Now. Go away."

Dart blinked, and then lunged to her feet in a spray of rock and grit. Elbows pumping to the sky, she bolted out of the silent semicircle of behemoths, hurtling herself in desperate strides down the mountain before she flung herself into the volcano scarred old-growth of the woods beyond.

* * *

"Grimlock, what exactly were you thinkin'?! Did livin' down in the caves finally get you rocks in your head? You let her go!"

Turning his head upwards, the Dinobot stood impassively, looked around at the clouds above him a few times. Then he turned his head and stared down at Ironhide with a 'I'm bored so this conversation is over,' look.

"Are you listenin' to me at all?"

"Can hear fine. Choose to ignore you."

"What!!!"

The other Dinobots stood still. Finally, as one they turned and lumbered back into the base.

"Has everyone just lost it? Prowl, what do you-where the heck is he?" Ironhide stared around, doing a brief head count. When he couldn't find the military strategist, he threw up his hands in exasperation. His red metal gleamed dully in the lights that were snapping on from all around the base. "Of all the piston-crankin' times for him to decide that he's gotta go analyze the stinkin' situation, it's now! Prowl!" he yelled into his communicator. "Answer me! What did you do, lock up on me or somethin'?" When he didn't get any response but static, he started to look worried. "Somebody go see if he lost it. This situation is illogical enough for me. Wonder if it scrambled his circuits?"

Hound gave him a hands out gesture of confusion. "He transformed and took off after-"

Ironhide swung around as the scout stared out over the mountainside."Dammit! Why the heck didn't he take backup with him? I mean, this has to be some sort of inside job, and no doubt those slag-suckers are out there in the middle of those woods just waitin' for a chance for one of us to be by ourselves out there!"

"I don't know," Hound replied, casting a worried look around him. The scout was down on one knee, his fingers finding a patch of damp ground. The soil was black and slick under his touch, and he touched it again, then brought his hand up under his nose. His mouth tightened into a small, worried line of honest distress. "It happened so fast, Ironhide. I hit the alarm to shut down the grid - it's not working - and I honestly didn't expect the Dinobots to be there..."

"Prowl can handle himself, Ironhide."

Optimus stepped through the assembled throng. The Autobots parted and grew silent as he passed them. Ironhide shook his head, put his fingers to his metallic temples as if he'd suddenly developed a massive neuro-ache.

"Honestly, I think they've all gone loco, chief."

Prime shook his head, looked at the assembled mechanisms around him. "Easy, Ironhide. He's the strategist. Prowl just doesn't go off randomly, you know that." He tapped a thoughtful finger against his faceplate. "What I'm wondering, is how did they get out?"

"Probably somethin' slipped through when those damn sensors were down!"

"Hey!" Bluestreak snapped back, realizing he was being targeted. He held up his hands, defensively. "They weren't down that long, if they were down at all. Prowl took care of it. He always takes care of it, you know. He doesn't trust any of us to do a job he thinks he can do better, you know. Drives me absolutely-"

"Doesn't matter." Ironhide cut off Bluestreak's tirade with a wave of his hand. "They were down long enough. Course, I suppose one of us could have let her out too. Any takers on that one?"

Autobots looked nervously around at each other, and finally Hound spoke up, breaking the awkward silence. "Okay, Ironhide, you're kidding, right?"

It took a long moment for Ironhide to sigh and let himself nod. "Yeah. I'm kiddin'."

Prime put his hand on Ironhide's shoulder.

"Sorry, Chief." The old Autobot looked up at Prime, abashed. "Guess I just..."

"I know. Take Hound and Mirage with you and go see if you can find Prowl. The rest of you, let's get the rest of this mess under control. Did someone say they caught Reflector?"

"Yeah, he was out, but he took a dead end into a supply closet," Ironhide chuckled. The old red Autobot transformed, and was immediately flanked by the other two cars as he drove down the road towards the forests below.

* * *

Prowl stopped and transformed as he looked across the stream. Slowly, he knelt, observing the ground, then sifted up a fistful of dirt and rock and brought it close to his sensors to analyze the spatters. _Internal systems coolant, fuel transfer. Bad hit. _His fingers spread and he let the earth slowly trickle back through his fingers.

A pebble bounced off the tip of his foot and rolled into the water with a light splash. He inclined his head, then moved a step out into the river. Water frothed around his feet; the leaves caught in the current plastered themselves against his plating in clumps of sodden decay. One more step washed them away, and the tactician shifted his full weight into the water and began to wade across. The water licked cold and silvery tongues against his upper thighs. Something bumped against his knees; a log or boulder perhaps, and he hesitated, eyed his footing carefully, and then continued on. He had to raise his knees a bit more to get over the worst of the hidden snags, lifting his feet high as he stepped out onto the bank, sweeping his gaze in a wide arc across the edge of the waxy foliage.

_Logically, she'd go downstream. _Moving slowly, the mech scouted along the bank until he found a wet mark and deep scrapes in the earth. Handprints marred the wet, red clay of the bank, as did the sharp pressed in indicator where the points of a spoiler had been forced flat by body weight. Prowl knelt again, surveyed the area, finally deciphering the stumble and fall as the courier had emerged from the river. Trailing fingers over the ground, he found small pools of half-processed energon, mingled with blue-green splatters of coolant.

_She has to slow soon... actually, she is slow. If she was running like she could, I'd never be this close. _Shouldering his rifle and moved carefully along the trail. Something cracked off to the side of him, and he pivoted on his heel, digging divots into the wet earth, instantly alert. His rifle barrel leveled onto the trees.

A deer exploded out of the underbrush, white belly flashing as it pronked past him. It was so close he saw himself reflected in the liquid terror of its huge amber eyes. Tiny spiked antlers on its head stood up like small antenna, and the ears cupped the evening sounds and then settled flat against its head as it found a narrow path into the underbrush and fled into the shadows. Prowl allowed a low sigh of relief to pass his lips; held his rifle steady, waiting to see if another would appear. He'd learned from the roads; where there was one deer there were usually others following. He'd gone to the scenes of more deer-car traffic accidents than he cared to count. Usually it was the deer who got the worst of the situation, but not always. Patiently, he stood stock still for thirty seconds and then twitched his left door and continued on through the underbrush. Salal and huckleberry grabbed at his plating, and the overripe, old berries of Oregon Grape left sliding purple stains across his white metal. Ferns brushed him lightly with soft fronds as they implored him to carry their spores with him to somewhere else in the forest.

He was thankful that at least the rain had let up, improving his visibility. His free hand swiped across his optics, leaving streaks of water across the blue glass. Fir branches interlocked in front of him, finally, he had no choice but to half stoop and push himself through them, dotting down his fingertips to keep his balance. Twigs snagged along his doors and back, pitch rolled into into the gaps in his plating. The smell of bruised pine wafted around him, and he bent his head and finally allowed himself to snort out a small clump of dry needles out of his intakes. Prowl was not a tracker; he fully admitted that it was Hound's area of expertise...

_I should call him in and have him do this. No, I don't have time, I'm afraid. If I stop... that was a bad hit. I won't be surprised if... _

Sensors registered metal.

Halted, he brushed aside the last of the fir branches, peered out into the small clearing in front of him.

Leaning heavily against the moss-slicked trunk of a cedar, the Decepticon had one hand pressed flat to her side as if she was trying to work out a runner's stitch. He could hear her coughing; a low metallic sputter that sounded as if her car mode had a clogged carburetor. Slowly, he shifted the weight of his weapon in his hands and took careful aim at her chest; the sight locked in on the torn purple symbol against that jagged lightning bolt of silver.

"Don't move," he said quietly. His voice echoed oddly in the deepening dark; it sounded harsh and grating against the flutter of the wind in the branches, the soft evening calls of a flicker.

Dart's head jerked up off of where it was tucked against her chest. Slanted optics shone a washed out blue in the darkness. Slowly, she looked at him, then curled her upper lip back as she began to growl. A junkyard dog warning an unwary looter out of the gates of a wrecking yard would have been proud of that noise. Prowl's finger tightened on the trigger of his rifle as she tensed. He plotted a thousand different results that could happen... and was relieved when his theories seemed to all be pointing the right way. The girl didn't attempt to charge him, and her growl trailed off after a long moment, replaced with a wheezy, struggling laugh.

"Oh..." she said, waving her fingers slightly, "it's you. Of all the mechanisms I really didn't want to see. Nothing personal, you understand. Well, okay... it's a little personal. No, it's a lot personal. I'm not going back in that cell. Sorry."

Prowl took a step towards her, still holding the acid-pellet rifle level with her chest.

Dart drew herself upright as much as she was able. Her spoiler struggled to come up over her shoulders, then blearily rattled its way back down.

"I hope you're not planning to shoot me again," she said thickly. "You shot me once- I didn't like it then. Although, right now, I think I might actually thank you." The courier coughed again, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and managed somehow to appear to be wrinkling her nose to make a face as she stared down at the oily smear clinging to her fingers. "So...am I supposed to come quietly, officer?"

He lowered the rifle slightly, ever so slightly.

"Will you?"

Another laugh fought its way up from her throat, forming a delicate blue bubble that broke with her words. "No, sir... I'll be.. running and screaming, if you don't mind."

Prowl tilted his head, dipping his chevron as if knitting his brows in polite confusion. He slowly took a step towards her. Dart pushed her elbow back into the tree behind her to brace herself, weaving unsteadily, and let out a rising snarl.

"So, go ahead. Shoot me."

"I'm not going to shoot you," he said quietly.

"Somebody else, then?"

"It's just you and me right now," he replied, waving his hand slightly to show her he was alone. She looked left, then right, sniffing at the air, but all she could smell was the thick, wet scent of whatever was clogging up her intakes. River mud? Possibly, she'd done a fairly impressive nose-plant stumbling out of the water.

"Oh."

"Take it easy..." Prowl suggested. He slowly lowered himself down on his haunches, doors tipping back in careful balance. Grass crushed underneath his legs as he lowered the tip of the rifle to the ground. "We're at a standoff. I don't want to shoot you, and if I get close, you're going to try and run."

A weak smile curved the edge of the Decepticon's lips. "Probably," she admitted.

"That's settled, then. So, how did you get out?"

"Field was down."

"Ah. I thought so. What I can't figure out is... how?"

"If you're looking at me about it, I don't know. I figured it shorted. But there wasn't any way I could pass it up. Better to get killed then stay in that box. I can't do much more of that." She shook her head, and there was something raw in her voice, frustration and resignation both. "I can't go back to that."

She leaned her chin wearily into her hand. Prowl could hear the steady drip of fluid hitting the ground. He deciphered the length between the drips, calculated instantly how much of her systems were losing power. It was quicker than he expected. He settled the rifle back more evenly, shaking his head. "I understand."

"I thought you might. I admit it."

"I'm rather surprised that you're admitting anything."

"I'm only admitting that I want to leave."

"The Dinobots let you go. What did you say to them?" Something was nagging at him about the whole situation; he knew he should remember what it was. He searched long dusty memory banks, but for once found himself frustrated.

"Nothing," she mumbled, shaking her head. Her feet rattled out from underneath her; she staggered a step before she flung her arm around the rough, peeling bark of the cedar trunk and braced herself again. "I didn't say anything to them, they told me to go."

"They told you to go?"

When he shook his head, she only gave him a hesitant smile, and then her gaze became unfocused again. Slowly, as if it hurt her to make that tiny movement, she shuddered and her spoiler drooped unevenly across her shoulders.

"Dart?" he asked her quietly. He looked around, scanned, found nothing else here but her and him. Slowly, he let his fingers release, and set his rifle down on the dirt in a carefully deliberate gesture. She watched him warily, eyeing him as if she expected him to pick it back up. On his shoulders, his missile launchers dropped slightly, and his doors lowered.

"I'm okay. " she said. Her jaws worked again, the pale grey throat fighting spasms as her lips clamped down on the morass sneaking up into her mouth; it felt as if she was percolating up coffee grounds. "Don't know why you haven't just shot me, you know. I would, if I was in your shoes, er... feet, all things considered, I guess."

"I'm not like you," he told her quietly, a thoughtful look on his face. He took a step towards her. She didn't seem to notice.

"I hope not," she told him, with an odd, sharp look. Then she began to laugh ruefully, shaking her head. Prowl thought for a moment, but failed to see why she found that particular comment so humorous. Then again, he often failed to see the humor in a lot of things. He could admit that it was an unfortunate - if minor - failing of his.

It took Dart time to regain herself and look at him. She even ran a hand across her optics as if she was wiping something off of them. "No, you aren't like me," she said finally. "You know... if I think about it this way, it's probably for the best." The courier brought her hand up from her side, stared at the trickles oozing between her fingertips. Gleaming threads of pink stretched from her hand, broke and spattered onto the ground. Fluid trails wound down the her hips and down her inner thigh, dripped off of the curve of her knee. She shifted her weight, crossed her legs with an odd look of chagrin before she uncrossed them and stared down at the tiny shards of metal scintillating in the slowly widening pool beneath her.

"You're badly injured," he observed.

"Oh, yeah, I am... wow, this really, really hurts," she choked, turning her hand and watching the goo slide from her fingers.

"I tracked you here on sheer line loss. It has to be bad - I'm not the most proficient tracker. I don't take chances."

"Right." Dart's glance let him know she seemed to think he was taking a pretty big chance right now. "All right, why don't you tell me, can we die from leaking to death? Or will I just blow a head gasket or something and be towed off to the junkyard? I really don't want to be recycled into siding if that happens, okay? You know, between you and me, this wasn't the way I expected to die. I mean, die by being gored by a metal triceratops inside of an alien robot's base." She clutched her flanks, wrapped her arms around herself as she doubled over. "I sort of expected that I'd finally managed to find a way to kill myself when I met- "

The last of her words vanished into a gurgle, and the courier collapsed onto the ground.

Prowl gathered his legs under him and moved quickly towards her. Sprawled on her side, Dart was still, optics dim and unresponsive. He surveyed her quickly, then his hand went to the hole punched through her plating. Fuel bubbled over his fingers, and looking down, he was startled into the realization that Slag's horn had gone completely through her. It was a wonder it had missed her main fuel pump and hadn't killed her instantly. Thrusting his palm downwards, he pressed his hand across the wound to seal the worst of it. He was no medic, but he'd fought on the field enough to realize that pressure to the wound often was what saved a life. _If I can keep loss to a minimum before I get her back to base, she's got a good chance. _He brought his comm link on line.

"_Headquarters, this is Prowl..."_

The link hissed softly. No one answered.

"_Ironhide, can you read me?" _

"No. He cannot, Autobot Prowl."

Burring out of the darkness, the soft voice seemed to come from everywhere. It nosed through the wet trees, slunk across the damp grass until it twined itself around the tactician's audio sensors. He straightened up slightly, but kept his hand firm against the hole in Dart's chest, even though he could feel the wind nuzzling against that bared stretch of neck under the rim of his helmet. A bead of moisture dripped off the edge and slid itself down; it wound a cold, drooling trail all the way to Prowl's throat guard. He didn't turn his head or allow himself to startle, instead, he just looked down at his fingers faintly outlined with the dull glow of half-processed energon. Underneath his palm, he could feel the patter of her fuel pump, running fast and quick; swiftly pushing what was left of her fuel through her internals at a rapid pace. He concentrated on the racing rhythm for ten passes before he spoke.

"She'll most likely die unless you get her to a repair bay," he said sharply into the night.

Glowing yellow eyes came to bear on him from the darkness.

"Perhaps."

Shadow under the pines turned solid. Ravage paced towards Prowl, ears flush to the flat planes of his feline head, giving him the appearance of a metallic snake sniffing out a place to strike. Paws lifted and fell as the cat glided forward, hind feet stepping into the tracks of his fore. As he approached, it became apparent that he was moving too silently; it was an unnerving sight to watch a pine branch underneath that dark paw flex itself, then snap without sound. Prowl's doors flattened back, body tense as he glanced around. _Where there is one Decepticon, others can't be far behind. Here I am exposed and open like some sort of utter fool. Utter, soon to be rusting fool,_ he corrected himself.

"So, Autobot," the cat said, the burr of his voice soft and smooth, "no, do not bring those shoulder weapons to bear on me. Trust me, you would not like the consequences. That is all the warning I give you."

"It was you."

The Decepticon's head inclined slightly. Gold optics slitted into bemusement. "It was me?"

"You let them out. You got through those sensors."

Ravage settled back, his haunches in a gentle curve under the lean draw of his black flank. The cat's expression seemed almost smug, he bore a gleaming wink of fang. "Ah. Well, that is neither here nor there as the earthlings say. Right now, I am instructing you to pick her up and start walking, please. Ah ah. Now now... don't look for your rifle. It... seems to have found itself under my paw. I don't know if it will be useable without repairs."

Prowl's hand clenched into a fist; as if he wished he could strike out to hit the cassette-cat. He was angry now, angry at himself for falling into the trap. His doors quivered, the gesture echoed by the missiles on his shoulders.

"If I don't?"

Ravage turned his muzzle slightly to indicate his bare flank. "Then I will have no choice but to detonate the bomb I placed within your base on my way out. That is not what I want at this moment, nor you, I suspect."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"Prowl, Prowl, Prowl," Ravage sighed, his ears tilting back, muzzle lifted to the sky. One forepaw swept across his front to rest delicately on his keel, as if he had forced himself to dig deep within himself and respond with stoic patience to the rudeness of the remark. "Simply put, you do not. But, as you can see, I seem to have... misplaced one of my bombs."

The cat's nose turned back just enough to regard the flat expanse of his flank, then returned to align with the white and black mech.

"It's a terrible shame, though. I cannot remember where I left it... Well, Autobot? We do not have much time to waste. Pick her up."

Kneeling, Prowl bent and gathered the girl's weight into his arms, watching the cat the entire time. She was light, surprisingly so, and hung limp as he tried to ease her flat her against his chest, her foot banging sharply into his thigh.

"Follow me," the cat said.

Prowl's optics focused on the rifle that lay gleaming in the dirt a few strides away.

"Again, I will tell you. It's useless. But, still, you had to think about going for the weapon." Ravage informed him. "I do not have time to waste on an attempt at heroics right now. Nor," he paused, as if adding on an afterthought, "does she."

Prowl's doors flattened back, and he heard his own mechanicals squeak with the strain. He forced himself to relax as he started to walk after Ravage. The Decepticon spy let him pass, then swivelled on his hind paws to follow him, his hips and body rolling in that odd pacing gait that only cats and camels had. Prowl thought briefly about turning, flinging the body in his arms at the cat, transforming in the ensuing confusion, and racing himself back through the trees. Instantly, his logic centers discarded that thought. Even if he was fast enough, the Decepticon would use the darkness to his advantage, and who knew what other Decepticons were nearby.

_I could set off my emergency beacon, but if there are more of them out there, I'd only be drawing my friends into a trap. This was my own fault. Better not make it someone else's death._

"Where did you place the bomb?" he asked.

"You do not want to know."

"I do want to know. If it affects my Autobots, I swear I'll drop her." Prowl gritted.

"Ah. It must be an Autobot phrase, that 'my Autobots'. So all of you truly own each other? Do you know how many times I have heard Prime say that same phrase?" Ravage let a soft purr creep into his rumbling growl of a voice. It sounded like the whisper of silk polishing the edge of a thin knife blade. "About a thousand... perhaps more."

"And I have Megatron say 'my Decepticons' also a thousand... perhaps more." Prowl let his retort hang there between them as he counted off each step farther from base in his mind. Each footstep seemed to take eons. His arms felt warm and wet now with fluid; he spared a glance down to the Decepticon in his arms. A line of electric blue liquid seeped out from under her throat guard, then rolled back and trickled down her shoulder. He heard the strike of the drops on the thick, evergreen foliage of the salal, the moisture pattered down as if it were rain. The rounded leaves of the woody, sturdy plants seemed to shrink back and curl at its glowing touch.

"True. Perhaps it is a Cybertronian failing." Ravage admitted.

"You changed the subject," Prowl pointed out.

"My personal failing. Straight answers are hard for a cat to give."

"Find a way to give one," Prowl muttered, his mouth tightening into a straight line of irritation.

"About your base? No, I think not. Needless to say, the bomb will cause no great harm to anyone within the structure... if you behave yourself, that is."

"Give your word, or I swear I'll drop her here." When the cat did not immediately respond, Prowl started to extend his arms to let Dart fall to the ground.

Ravage sighed. "Not that I actually think you will drop her, after all, you of all the Autobots, have a skewed sense of what is right, Enforcer."

"Skewed?"

"You were an officer of the law. Your perspective has always seen the world in black and white, when in reality it is merely all shades of grey. Ah well. You didn't listen to me tell you that at the Arena, you will not listen to me now. As for my word, you wouldn't believe if even I gave it to you, I fear. To humor you... my word is given. Are you satisfied?"

"I suppose I have to be."

Ravage chuckled, continued to press Prowl forward, weaving him through the woods. Wet branches slapped across the Autobot's chin, pine boughs tangled in the angle of his chevron, pulling his head to the left and right as if delighting the cheerful torment of a vehicle, in memory of all their tall-trunked brethren that had been cut down to make Interstate Five. Pushing through a particularly large snag, Prowl half turned to eye the shape of the cat padding behind him. "I should take her back to the Ark. Ratchet could deal with this amount of damage. If we walk back to your headquarters, I have no doubt she will die. At the rate she's losing fluid, I give her an hour... maybe less."

"That is true, if we were walking up to Washington. We're not. A note - this would be so much simpler if you could fly."

"The war might have been over if we could fly." Prowl informed him in return.

"Again, true," the cat admitted with a nod.

They came up over the crest of a hill, pushing free of the old-growth timber. He looked into the valley, saw the far off twinkle of lights from a small town.

"Stop." Ravage said quietly. The remaining missile on his flank twitched, as if he was anticipating a target.

"Now what?"

"Now we wait."

Prowl nodded. He had figured as much. Now the Decepticons would start coming out of the forest anytime. He strained to hear jet exhaust - only heard the crickets chirping in pleasure at the earlier fall of rain, and the trickle of liquid running down his arm to drop off of his elbow. He spared a glance down to the girl. She lay in his arms, head tucked against her throat guard; somewhere along their journey half-processed fuel had began running freely out of her mouth. Blue optics had dimmed to where he could barely make them out against the pale grey sweep of her cheek.

Ravage glanced back to him after scanning the sky.

"Can you help her at all?" the cat asked. One paw lifted, and his fanged jaw dropped into an amused feline smile. "Opposable thumbs are not my strong point, I fear."

A thought flickered through Prowl's logic centers; he allowed it to take form._ If I save her, she'll no doubt kill someone that I care about someday..._ He looked down at the mechanism in his arms, and then the anger was replaced with responsibility. _What's the difference between letting her die because I did not help and shooting her in the head. I'm no Decepticon, and I'm not going to become one. _

"I can stop some of the fluid loss, perhaps. I don't know... I can't promise much...but I can try." Slowly, he knelt and tipped Dart out of his arms. She settled on the ground with a metallic clatter. He hesitated, then slipped two fingers into the ragged hole on her chest and probed the wound carefully. Warm liquid welled up as he moved tube and line; it bled up between his knuckles, slipped into the gaps in his joints.

"Do what you can," Ravage suggested, settling back on his haunches with his nose to the wind.

* * *

Prowl was fishing around for one of the myriad split lines when the scream of jet engines made him look up. He knew that tone, and was not surprised at whose arrival it heralded.

_Starscream._

The Air-Commander landed with a thud of metal before them, wings spread, optics shining in his dark face. Prowl shifted forward and give a silent mental command to his shoulder missiles, flicking the tips upward as he tensed, getting ready for the attack he saw coming.

Starscream's foot missed Prowl's face by mere inches as Prowl threw himself to the side. Fuel spattered off of the Autobot's hands and splashed Starscream's chest and face. The Decepticon reared back and jerked his head to the side. Slowly, ever so slowly, Starscream wiped his face with the back of his hand, brought it to his mouth, lipping at the fluid. The Autobot felt his internals lurch with a shudder of disgust. Starscream looked at where Dart lay crumpled on her side as if she were an animal felled by a bullet, then pulled his lips back into a sneer.

The tactician was on his feet now, shoulder missiles aimed and ready. Starscream's wings flattened, and the Air-Commander's chest compartments popped open, exposing a bank of cluster bombs. His eyes became slits of furious red, and then a white gleam slithered its way out from his lips and nestled on his fuel-spattered jaw.

_He's going to let loose on me as soon as he has an open hit. He won't use the null-ray, he wants to kill me if he can. Best thing I can do is dodge, roll, and hope I can get some distance between us, hope I can lose him in vehicle mode._ Prowl took a step back, keeping his missiles locked and on target. _Come on, you cold-fueled psychotic, I'm ready... _

"Enough."

Ravage's amused voice drifted through the night like smoke. "Starscream. Pick her up. We have no time to waste on this now."

Starscream twitched slightly, but his murderous gaze never left Prowl's. "I plan on leaving just as soon as I've dealt with him." He waved his hand to indicate the black and white mech standing calmly in front of him. "I have no intention of taking one of his filthy little missiles in the back."

Ravage's amber look burned ironically into Prowl's optics moments before the explosion ripped through the area.


	8. Chapter 8

"Dammit!"

Ironhide stared angrily down at the ground, where the edge of a crater in the dirt was splashed with fuel and scattered bits of metal. The smell of Kneeling down, he ran his fingers through the sludge. The whole place reeked of torn vegetation and burned soil._ He walked right into it. I can't believe he walked right into it._

"Ironhide, over here!"

Ironhide jerked to his feet. "What'd you find?"

Hound was walking up to him, clutching something in his hands. He held out the object to Ironhide slowly, as if he was afraid to give it too much importance. Ironhide let out a low muffled curse as he took it from Hound's grasp.

Prowl's left door, twisted and charred beyond nearly all recognition. The window was destroyed; all that hung in the frame were melted spikes of glass.

Ironhide used the ball of his thumb to rub a swath through the grainy stripes of soot, slowly, exposing the logo of the police decal. Hound watched him, waiting silently, hands loose and still at his sides. There was a look of deep concern on the usually cheerful scout's face as when he finally walked off to survey the area some more.

"Anythin' else?"

Mirage stepped out from the overhanging woods; the branches he was pushing through barely rustled with his passing. "Not anything you would like to see, Ironhide."

"What do you think happened?"

"Honestly?"

"Wouldn't want it any other way," Ironhide replied, gruff and short.

Stiffly, the blue and white mech's lip lifted in a strained smile. "Of course. He was standing there-" Mirage indicated, with a wave of his hand. "Looks like one of the jets landed and they were circling for a bit. We found his rifle back there - it's ruined, but his shoulder weaponry was probably still functional. You can see how the footsteps show he was dipping to keep on target. What ever hit him wasn't from that Decepticon. Something blew off that door from behind, and while he was out of vehicle mode. I would say the explosion came from behind him, and it threw him forward. Over there was where he landed." Shattered trees and rock slashed the area where he indicated.

"I don't know about damage, but it seems severe. There's quite a bit of fuel everywhere. Spray pattern is quite typical of an explosion. I don't know, his doors aren't hooked into his main systems, and they might have taken enough of the hit to save him. I did find part of the casing from the explosive, though."

Ironhide took what Mirage now handed to him, studied it for a moment. "Proton bomb?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Ravage." Ironhide growled darkly.

"Absolutely."

"Now I've got a good guess on who let them out. That damned cat. I should've guessed. I just lost one of my best friends thanks to that belly-slinkin' slime. I ever get a chance to draw on him after this, I'll have a floor decoration out of his metallic hide."

"Don't count Prowl out yet." Hound called back, suddenly. "I've taken readings on the whole area."

"And?" Ironhide snapped again. The futility of the situation annoyed him like nothing else.

"There's not enough here to be all of him. Gruesome, sure, but absolutely true. I don't think the Decepticons would change their patterns and carry a dead prisoner back to base. They took him with them. Look... fuel traces, see the spatters? And they're getting farther and farther spaced each meter, and they started landing on the trees up about a quarter mile, like they were-"

"Flying." Ironhide murmured. "Good job, Hound. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Seriously, don't, we're all upset." Hound replied, as Ironhide's apology was met with a merely a shrug and a good-natured smile. "Now we know we have a chance to save him."

"A chance? No. We're gonna save him, and blow a few of those Decepticreeps straight to the smelter! Radio Prime, and let him know what's up!"

* * *

_I can't feel anything... _

At first, that thought was somehow worse than the alternative. That was before the pain lanced through Prowl in white-hot agony, rolling down his relays from fingertip to foot. Diagnostics offered urgent warnings, muttering softly into his audio systems. A strangled moan escaped his lips as he struggled to lift his head from the smooth metal floor. The ceiling wavered, rippled, and then slowly moved into sharp focus. A huge rusty stain directly above him, and from the middle of the red, concentric rings came a drop of water that fell across the bridge of his nose. He flinched slightly, and it trickled down, rolling its way into the corner of his mouth as his olfactory systems sucked in the damp air wafting from a rusting exhaust vent set into the wall.

The water dried quickly, leaving a faint, white crust behind it.

_Salt? Salt water. Last thing I remember was that Starscream and I were in the middle of a standoff... Where am... no. Wait, I can't be here. _With a grun to lift his head from the floor, and then slowly rolled onto his chest. A lance of agony shot through him, and a strangled moan escaped before he could stop himself. His systems came back on with a jolt, started cataloging damage left and right. Prowl glanced over his shoulder, enough to let himself see only one of his door panels jutting from his shoulder, long struts jamming through the thinner metal as if it were the splintered, hollow bones of a broken bird's wing. Even that movement was torture, and the mech pressed his lips together to contain the small groan of pain that threatened to escape him. He was actually surprised he was still functional after he realized what had been done to him.

"Awake? Interesting. Personally, I thought you wouldn't survive."

Prowl slowly pushed his hands forward, locked his elbows. Pain snapped and flickered down his relays, yet he managed to himself to draw himself up into a kneeling position, peering through the glowing bars of the cell.

"You."

Starscream smiled thinly. "Me."

Prowl staggered up to his feet, one hand pressed tightly against his side. Fluid oozed between his fingers, ran in dimly glowing rivulets down the crest of his hip and trailed down his grimy, smoke-stained leg. Making contact with the dirt, it turned a shade of of filthy, dull brown as it puddled beneath his heel. Starscream watched the Autobot struggle upright with the same lack of enthusiasm high society women saved for hotel rooms full of paparazzi and cockroaches.

Red optics lit on the trails of fuel dribbling down the tactician's side. Spying that, Starscream leaned eagerly forward until his nose nearly brushed the glowing grid. His mouth twisted into a delighted leer, torqued the refinement of his dark jaw into ugly, brutish lines. A suck of air passed through his intakes; he held it in his mouth as if savoring the cocktail of abuse, then slowly hissed it out in a whistling stream, shifting his weight to rest one hand on his hip. What was left of Prowl's right door twitched in disgust at the mech's obvious enjoyment of his condition, the struts gleaming white and wet as the jet-mech in front of him gathered his personal airs of superiority tight around himself.

Others might have seen Starscream's behavior as an elegant cloak settling itself across the grey lines of the Decepticon's shoulders; Prowl only found himself strangely recalling a nature television documentary of a wriggling maggot pupating itself within a cocoon of decaying flesh.

"Maybe you will die after all," Starscream sneered.

"I wouldn't want to give you the pleasure."

Wings flattened, the edge of the flaps flicked, indicating the haughty mech's silent anger.

"Oh, it will be my pleasure," he rasped, drawing closer to the flickering grid of crossed bars that separated them, staring at Prowl with intense loathing. "Soon. Very soon. A few minutes of me ripping every inch of relay out of your body with my bare fingers, and you, Autobot, will be on your knees, begging me to kill you."

"A few minutes with you in any sort of circumstance would often lead to that particular response, I believe."

The suck of air past Starscream's lips was harsh and sharp. Prowl held himself steady, unflinching. Starscream reared back between his flared wings and narrowed his optics, an adder refining its threat into the strike it judged would kill.

"You dare speak to me like that, you filthy, ground bound idiot? You know who I am..."

"Yes, yes. I do. Starscream, pride of the Cybertron War Academy."

Mollified, Starscream crossed his arms, basking in the recognition and failing to quite recognize the sarcasm inherent in the other mech's words. Prowl wasn't too surprised at this; Starscream's abilities in reading the subtleties of conversation often ended with him being shot at by his own commander.

"You live because I let you live," the jet mech said with an imperious smile, bringing his hand up to slice his finger slowly across his throat. "And you'll die when I want you to die, as well."

"Ah. I thought I lived because the placement of Ravage's proton bomb was slightly off."

A wry snort echoed, and Starscream's hand dropped back to his side. "No. But it doesn't matter. Whatever the reason for the little bit of life still remaining to you, I'm looking forward to the moment when I can end it for you."

"Ah. Well, everyone has to have something to look forward to in their life," Prowl replied.

"Oh, I am, actually. I am."

Once again, the jet-mech's smile was cold, lip curling in cruel contempt. Prowl held steady and met his gaze without flinching once more before Starscream snapped himself around on his heel and strode out of the corridor. The Decepticon's wings made a rattling noise; to Prowl it sounded if it were the scrape of a earthmover against rock..._ digging me a grave. Well, that was morbid. Don't think like that. _

Prowl stood looking after Starscream for a few more seconds, and then slowly sagged against the wall. The effort to keep himself steady had proved exhausting; part of him wanted to lie down and rest...the other part knew that he probably wouldn't get up again if he did. Instead, he leaned his injured shoulders carefully back against the wall, barely moving, conserving every drop of fuel he had available left within him.

* * *

"Aren't you on line yet?"

The courier shivered, responding to the words with a jerk that sent all four limbs scrabbling against the cool smoothness of the table. Her left leg kicked out, struck a hollow canister and set it spinning across the floor.

A handful of fuel soaked parts rested in a pile, oozing liquid down the curved groove on the edge of the table. Fuel had trickled to the end of the channel while he'd worked on patching up the girl; now it dripped sluggishly, congealing into gelled lumps before it slithered down the funnel built into the end of the table and fell into the mesh-grated drain underneath.

Running.

She had been running, strides chewing up the earth underneath her into long miles, and she was still driving forward even in her half-daze, mind caught up in the forward race of her body as her senses bounded back and forth between completely aware and unconscious blackness. Four walls held her captive, cold to the touch, fading in and out into the surge of light and overwhelming antiseptic smells. Twisting, she thrashed, trying to drag herself back into that place where she was all speed - delighting in the simple things: hard packed earth under her feet, knees flexing, intakes heaving like a bellows as they geared the pace of her cooling systems to the each stride.

Heavily, a hand came down on her shoulder and attempted to shake her back into reality.

"Get up."

Dart lifted her head up slightly, whined low in her throat, then sunk back down onto the slab. It sounded as if she were a faithful dog who had accidently misplaced a little boy down a deep well. "Five more minutes?" she pleaded, mumbling out the words as she slid her arm over her head and nestled her nose into the crook of her elbow, blocking out the harsh white illumination of the swing-arm lamp parked over her head.

An exasperated sigh, and Starscream's fingers drummed an impatient tattoo on the smooth surface of the repair bench before shoving the lamp roughly off to one side. Compressed springs groaned in protest as the rim of the lamp quivered. The light reflected off a pool of ooze on the floor; spatters of blue and green mingled and mixed, translucent as stranded jellyfish. Roughly shoving a mismatched pile of damaged parts off to one side, the mech fished through the half-open tool drawer below, found a small rag and started cleaning off his hands with it, finickly scrubbing each crack and crevice of his joints. "I said, get up. You're fine."

Slanted optics glowed brightly at the comment, then shuttered and narrowed into slits of blue. The courier's fingers clenched on the metal edge of the table, she took another deep breath of the air, then snorted out the smell of the room. "No, I'm not fine," Dart growled, the words thick and harsh in her throat. Coughing, she gulped down the remaining liquid pooling around her vocalizer, and tried again. "But.. I am functional."

Starscream raised his right brow-ridge at those particular words. If he hadn't known it himself, he would have never guessed that she was at all human. _Once human, _he corrected quickly, then glanced over his shoulder nervously, his wing flaps twitching as he tossed the filthy rag into the disposal bin at his feet. Better to keep those thoughts to himself... he never knew when Soundwave was going to be listening in. "You took a bad hit."

"Yeah. I didn't dodge fast enough," she replied, carefully easing her hands behind her as she levered herself upward. Across her back, her spoiler seemed relieved at no longer being pressed tight by the weight of her body - it bent and flexed before rattling into a perfectly straight line. Now that she was sitting up, she swallowed again and wiped the back of her hand across her lips, leaving a faint streak along her grey metal. The mech took a step back, eyeing the smear across the girl's curled fingers with dry disgust.

"I'm back, though, aren't I?" Dart asked as she turned her head from side to side to look around the room, sniffing lightly at the air. The familiar salt and mineral smell that permeated the base reassured her before his words did.

"Back? Ah, at base. Yes, you're out of the Ark."

Dart's wan smile changed to a sigh of relief. Carefully lifting her hand, she brought it up to rub at her forehead, pressing the ball of her thumb into the side of her temple. The pressure felt good. The courier half shuttered her optics again, leaning her weight into her own touch. "Oh good. I was awful tired of staring the walls," she mused. "I-"

Abruptly, the courier's spoiler rose over her shoulders, tips prickling warily as she turned her head from side to side. Black lips curled and framed a lupine snarl. "Never again. I thought I was going circuit wacky. I don't need to be insane on top of all of this, right?" She ran her hand gingerly over her chest, feeling along the rougher edges of the new patch, then. Slowly, she brought up her fingertips to eye the smear of fuel clinging to them. "It was a bad hit, wasn't it? I don't remember that much." Absentmindedly, she dropped her hand back to the bench beside her. Her ankles crossed uncomfortably as she stared at the floor, but she never attempted to get onto her feet.

"Probably for the best," the mech informed her.

"Yeah, no kidding. Otherwise, I'd never go near a giant reptile again. Oh wait," she said, making a face, "I'm not going to do that ever again."

Like Prowl's earlier comment, her sarcasm was completely wasted on Starscream. "You should have known they were there," he chastised her, reaching down to gingerly pluck a charred diode off the edge of the table. He held it between his fingertips, studying the bit of metal before sighing and tossing it back on the discard pile. _It's not even a bit salvageable. What a waste of my time, re-manufacturing these parts to my specifications. Hmm. Maybe I'll just give the Constructicons my diagrams; even those idiots can't mess that up, not with me practically drawing them all out... I'm going to need to put an emphasis on her that dodging is her wisest defense, or I'll be constantly down here. _

Dart canted her head, ponytail scraping across her the top edge of her lifted spoiler. "What, the dinosaurs?"

"Yes."

"Um... well, I'm sorry, but the only time I've tried dodging around a dinosaur before this was at was at OMSI."

"Well, you should remembered that and repeated the previous experience."

"I would have been more than happy to repeat that previous experience," she replied emphatically. "Those dinosaurs were really, really dead. Stone dead. As in museum mount, turn to stone dead. Not stabbing. Not stomping. Not biting. And definitely not talking."

"A dead Dinobot would be a nice change," he admitted, fingers rubbing his chin in thought. "They're stupid idiots. Nothing more than barely sentient lumps of tin. The Autobots hide behind them constantly, the cowards."

"You know, I can see where hiding behind them would come in handy, all things considered. Personally, I'm staying away way away from the front end from now on, though."

"Courier."

Megatron's voice was followed by his bulky presence through the open repair bay door a few moments later. Soundwave paced after him, silent as ever. With a wary look, Dart slid herself off the bench and stood up, weaving for a few seconds from side to side in a fairly plausible impression of a drunken pony.

"What do you want?" Starscream snapped, his voice rising sharply until it sounded like fingernails on a thin pane of glass. Dart couldn't help wincing as the sound drilled into her audios.

"I wasn't talking to you, was I? No? Then keep your mouth shut, Starscream, and let the courier answer me herself."

"Sir?" she acknowledged with a dip of her head.

"Well, I see at least one of you is polite as ever. You would do well to learn her manners, Starscream, but we've had this discussion before. I see you have returned and recovered, girl. Surprising on both counts."

Starscream merely turned his shoulder away snidely and ignored his leader, sweeping the clump of damaged parts into the recycling unit. Clattering, they vanished down the pipe into the depths of the waste system. They'd be melted down and re-used as soon as possible.

Dart glanced over at him as if she expected help of some sort; finding none, all she could do was agree.

"Yes sir."

"I trust you will be able to run a perimeter later."

The courier's astonished blink was obvious. "Run..?" she stammered, taking a step back.

"Yes. Of course, if you don't think you're up to the task, we can find something else to occupy you for the evening."

Megatron's smile didn't even attempt to convey the slightest falsehood of warmth or friendly concern. Instead, he stood and watched her, waiting for a response. She didn't even have to think about what would be the wrong one to give him. Pulling herself straight, she clasped her hands behind her back and shifted her unsteady legs to brace herself as much as she could, dropping her chin into a quick nod.

"No, I can do it."

"You can do it..." he prompted.

"Sir. I can do it, sir."

"Good. Then we shall see you back on duty this evening."

_Like nothing happened. Like I just didn't spend a month and a half in a jail cell. A month and a half in a cage, in a box... _

An image hit her then, of sharp metal teeth rending Megatron's throat and crushing his words back into his body. With the image came the taste of fuel, the warmth of it rolling through, an attempt to swallow down the liquid as fast as it flowed from deep, fatal wounds...

Dart jerked backwards and nearly lost her balance. She smacked the back of her hip against the table and her leg nearly went out from underneath her. Instantly, her hands came down to support her knee, but that had nothing to do with her balance. It was the jerk of the spoiler that pulled her back upright, and she leaned heavily back for a second and blew short huffs of nervous air through her olfactory sensors. Grimacing, she realized there was no pain in the leg, and immediately drew herself upright, radiating embarrassment from head to toe.

Megatron's optics narrowed and focused entirely on her behavior. "What seems to be the problem, courier?"

"I... I don't know. A glitch, I guess, maybe something's still broken... "she trailed off, mouthplates fastening down on her lower lip, chewing restlessly as she brought up her hand to the side of her helmet. It wasn't a normal motion, as if she was scratching an itch or merely testing an audio sensor. Dart's elbow was stiff, her fingers curled under on themselves as she began to paw at her head, scraping her fingers across the metal, optics losing their focus on anyone around her. On the third swipe, Starscream lunged over and snatched at her wrist, closing his fingers down as he yanked her hand away from her head. Dart startled, shying into a twisted curve, her spoiler clattering down against her shoulders. Her astonished yelp was replaced by a threatening growl; the warning had barely rumbled through her lips before she whipped her head downwards and snapped at his hand.

The mech recoiled as the heat of her intakes washed over the joints in his fingers. Shocked, he stood with his mouth open as he listened to the click-click-click of her jaws worrying empty air.

Megatron's roaring laugh burst through his astonishment.

Humiliation at his leader's amusement flared sourly up into the Air-Commander's throat; Starscream's hand balled itself into a fist as he whirled to glare at the Decepticon leader. Megatron's response to this was to laugh harder, settling his hands comfortably onto the flat plates of his hips, watching both the girl biting harmlessly at the air and the infuriated mech with obvious entertainment.

"Stop it!" Starscream hissed.

The girl continued to snap at nothing, her growl rising in pitch.

"Once again, Starscream, your schemes are reaching out to bite you," Megatron observed dryly.

With an exasperated, whistling shriek that confirmed the displaced rage he was feeling towards his leader, Starscream swung himself back around. His hand came down an open-palmed, vicious strike towards the side of the courier's cheek. "Enough!" he shrilled. "Stop that this instant!"

The courier's jaws clamped shut and her spoiler came down on her shoulders to jerk her backwards as she immediately obeyed the order. Her stillness was as un-natural as the previous flurry of snaps.

Starscream's wings swept forward, the shift of his weight halted his blow inches from her nose. Watching her with narrowed optics, he slowly let his hand fall to his side, fingers twitching with the angry surges still wracking his system. "Are you quite finished being hysterical?"

"Was - was I hysterical?" she mumbled in confusion, rubbing at the side of her head.

"Yes," he hissed, refusing to turn and look at Megatron behind him. "Don't do it again."

"Sorry, I... I didn't..."

Megatron's bulk loomed over them both, blotting out the bright light with his long shadow. Dart startled again, but this time, she managed to merely tuck her chin against her throat guard and stare at the floor as if something there fascinated her. "A glitch, you say?"

"That's all it is, a crossed wire," Starscream hastily interjected, bringing up a hand to wave it at Dart's head. "Nothing important, of course, nothing important."

A long moment passed. Megatron glanced over at Soundwave. Nervously, Starscream shifted his weight from one foot to the other, rocking back from heel to toe.

Finally, a unbelieving grunt escaped the Decepticon leader.

"Coming from you, Starscream, those words don't inspire my trust that you're telling me the truth. If it is injury related, I suggest you fix it soon. Very soon."

"As you command, Megatron," came Starscream's sibilant reply. "As you command."

* * *

Outside the transparent metal window, the fish glided soundlessly through the darkness like a flock of strange silver birds. One of them turned, and then they all did, maneuvering as smoothly as jets in attack formation. Cold blue lights scattered around the base made their staring eyes shine with a frightening luminescence, and their mouths opened and closed over and over again, pale bellies and narrow faces making them appear as if they were drowning down in these depths, gasping desperately for one final breath of air. Once in a while, a fin would brush the metal hull and they would all scatter into the dark sea; but they came back drawn by a force they did not understand in words. The grey dog-sharks patrolling the cold Washington waters knew it too; the lights and heat from the vents brought prey down to these depths and held them still and mesmerized, helpless to be devoured.

"Soundwave."

Immediately, the blue mech lifted his head from the screen in front of him.

The Decepticon leader looked down into the emotionless visor of his trusted companion. Sleek fish scattered away from the window as he stood up from his makeshift throne and stepped off the raised platform to stride towards Soundwave.

"What was she thinking?" The question had held his attention off and on and Megatron hated questions about his own warriors. Especially when Starscream had his fingers in the gears, so to speak. There had been enough problems with the Combaticons; not that Megatron hadn't managed to take control of them once they understood that he was a threat to their continued existence.

Still, they remained a sullen, disagreeable group that barely remained on the good side of treason.

_The only reason they still remain functional is that a gestalt is useful for drawing weapons fire. _

Soundwave stood silently, as if he was mulling over the question. The only sound was the constant, tape-cassette whirr of the mechanisms in his chest. Behind him, the computer monitor searched aimlessly through the airwaves, recording data to be analyzed later. As always, the Decepticons constantly searched for new energy sources by picking through broadcasts on Earth; right now the computers recorded snippets of the news, a nature show about moose, an old movie in black and white where a cocky detective pulled his fedora low over his eyes. Seemingly random moments of television, but not random to the computer system; the database had picked out the keywords in the shows - oil, natural resources, and diamonds.

The blue mech lowered his hand back to the screen, tapping lightly at a few keys, and then turned away from his ongoing project to again to face his leader.

"Patterns odd," he finally replied in the cool monotone that had accompanied more than one Autobot's death. "Searching database."

_Well, so is the girl, for that matter, _the Decepticon leader thought. He had seen the courier's head dip slightly as he had towered over them that final time, her lips barely curled into a soundless snarl that said clearly,_ stay away from me. _The courier had fidgeted and dropped her gaze immediately; Megatron might have thought he only imagined that look... _but I did not stay in control by not acting on my observations. Besides, she nearly bit Starscream's hand off, and as amusing as that may be..._

In Soundwave's chest plate, the whirr of a cassette sped up, leaving behind the echo of white noise in the room. The mech's silence stretched into minutes, and Megatron waited patiently, something he rarely did for another mech under his command, his optics never leaving the red visor of the blue transformer in front of him.

"Darken."

"The Turbohound?" The name made images of a pack bell through Megatron's mind. Behind the hunting dogs, a blue and black shadow sat, sword in hand, astride some sort of beast that had no earthen counterpart; low slung and six legged, it smashed its jaws together and foamed green gobbets of slime in its frenzy. "That is one name I didn't expect to hear again." His hand came up to thoughtfully rub his jaw. He began to walk towards his throne, his footfalls echoing hollowly against the cold metal floor.

"Query returns that information."

"About her? Why?"

"Unknown," Soundwave admitted. "Pattern is close."

"Pattern?" Megatron said, as his fingers tapped on the transparent metal in front of him, his optics bright. The fish scattered and did not return. "The pattern matches?" He took two strides over to Soundwave and stood, looking down at him.

"No. Similar. Not a match," the blue mech droned. In Soundwave's chest, the low growl of his accessing drive took on a slightly different pitch; the snarl of a great cat, rumbling warily though the darkness of some shadowed corner. "Unknown. Operation: Verify?"

"Verify."

"As you command."

* * *

"Good evening."

Dart turned from the monitor in time to see the shadows coalesce into Ravage. The jaguar watched her for a moment, then placed one forepaw delicately on the curve of the chair, then the other, carefully lifting his body into the empty seat beside her, his inky metal flowing into the unoccupied space. His flanks were still devoid of the silver curve of his armament, and slowly, he settled himself onto one haunch, sweeping his tail behind him as he leaned the arch of his chest forward to observe for himself what she was watching.

"Human news?" the cat said, pressing the triangle of his black nose towards the screen, as if to sniff the pictured information into his olfactory sensors. "Something about us, then?"

"No no," she replied, holding up a hand, "Nothing today. Well, so far anyway... after all, this is Portland news." A quick chuckle rolled out of her throat, then her spoiler twitched lopsidedly, echoing the slant of her humor. "I think they're probably debating on setting up something right after the weather report. Maybe even something along the lines of, 'today's highs are in the mid-fifties, with a chance of rain-showers this evening, and now to Tom, for the daily robot report...'"

Ravage quirked his left ear into a feline question mark. "Daily robot report? I see." Slowly, he extended his paw, lightly placing the edge onto the bench below the monitor screen. His narrow shoulders drew together and steadied themselves in angles of silent megrim. "That would be most interesting. I might actually have to take time to sit myself down and watch the news for myself if that became a regular occurrence."

"Okay, now you're teasing me, aren't you?"

"Yes. I don't know why everyone tends to insist that I have no sense of humor."

She laughed, tipping her lanky body back in her chair a bit and resting one toe lightly on the floor to keep her balance. Her hands shifted and then settled comfortably across her mid-section. "Well, I don't know. Maybe because you have a very subtle sense of humor."

The cat shuttered one eye in a glowing wink, and settled back comfortably on his haunches, lifting up his paw to touch the curve of his chest. "Ah, but between you and I, you understand that humor does not mean crass explosions. But, ah yes, I am truly a master of cynicism at times. It seems to be completely unappreciated here, I'm afraid. However, getting back to my interest... why the human news?"

"I watch it now and then," she offered, shrugging her shoulders and digging the black point of her toe into the floor. "Sort of, er, a window on the outside world, maybe?" She offered him a quick smile as she brought her hand up and rubbed at her temples. "Sometimes it's massively depressing. He dies, she dies, everyone dies... So, I'm getting good at tuning in for the human interest stories, that's what I really enjoy. Kitten saved by off duty policeman... Er, sorry. I'm blathering, aren't I?"

"No. I've been around much of Starscream's blather. You are not blathering. However, you do seem distracted."

"I'll admit it, I am. I mean..."

"You want to know why we did not come for you."

Dart started, spoiler arching over her shoulders with a quick rattle as her heel settled down on the floor. _I was thinking that. Am I that obvious?_

The cat turned his head, reflected his own image on the screen.

"Simple. You had to escape on your own. Megatron does not like liabilities."

"Oh. So, I'm a liability."

"A bit, yes..."

"You know, just for once, I'd love it if someone lied to me about this sort of thing. You know, just to make me feel better about myself or something. My ego's already taken a so much of a pounding, it's as flat as a possum on Interstate Five."

A rolling growl-laugh escaped the cat. "Lying to you about your shortcomings won't save you from getting captured again."

"Uh, if you're trying to make me feel better with that, it's not helping."

"I do not care about making you feel better. It would serve no purpose, in my opinion. What I do care about is that you are not a liability the next time we go out; and no, not a liability to the Decepticons," he replied, holding up his right paw to silence her sputter of denial, "but a liability to yourself."

"I'm confused," she admitted, feeling as if she'd been forced into walking a tight circle and stepped on her own heels.

His mouth opened, exposing his fangs in a silent feline smirk. "The Autobot."

"What Autobot?" she said nervously, turning her head to peer over her shoulder as if she expected a convoy of cars to come barreling out of the wall.

"You don't remember?" he asked, searching her eyes with his own. "The one who tracked you down?"

"Tracked me– oh, Prowl? No, I remember talking to him, but I then I went down and um, after that, I don't remember a whole lot else... why, what happened? Wait... er... he's not dead, is he?" she asked suddenly, staring into the monitor in front of her before she glanced back at the cat. Her optics offered nothing but honest confusion, and Ravage's intense gaze slipped back into calm regard. Slowly, he resettled his paw back on the arm of the chair.

"Dead? No. But he will be soon. Megatron's plans have been ruined too many times by that one." The sleek black head turned and was watching her. His voice lowered; the soft growl drifted along like fog, sounding the way that a cat's voice should sound, as if the words he spoke were crafted and twined out of smoke and honey.

* * *

A soft knock echoed, grey knuckles rapping lightly against the edge of the doorframe. Dart winced as she realized there was a perfectly functioning chime pad inset to the left of the door; once again, she'd forgotten. Oh boy, she really didn't need another three hours of lecture from Starscream about how her inability to remember that the chimes were next to every door's point of entry (not just external ones) made him look like an idiot...

Then again she would rather have the lecture than be called down to where she was now.

"You - you wanted to see me, sir?" she called.

At that hesitant voice, Megatron glanced up. Red optics swept over the skinny, long-legged form of the courier. It was obvious to him that the girl was nervous, unsure; she had paused at the threshold of the doorway and seemed afraid to step across the invisible line of demarcation between his private conference area and the end of the hall.

"If I didn't want to see you, would I have called you here?" he said dryly. "Come in."

Quickly, Dart stepped into the room. The door slid shut behind her, the sudden click set her into the air with a tiny crow-hop, her spoiler rattling out her discomfort.

Megatron waited quietly in front of a nearby vid-screen. Red optics turned to encompass her, and their color was blood spattered on an expanse of grey, dull mirror. Something about him right now resembled a crocodile lying in wait on a muddy shore, waiting for his prey to choose between dying of thirst or lunging forward and swallow their last, desperate drink of water.

Off to one side, Soundwave waited as impassively and patiently as ever. A tiny gleam of light from the screen reflected off of his visor, and Dart saw his chin dip ever so slightly as he tracked her progress across the floor. Above him, resting on the edge of a conduit, crouched Laserbeak. The bird-like transformer inclined his head, gaped his beak. His wings made a metallic chafing sound as he shifted his weight down the edge of the metal pipe, shadowing her advance from above until she came to a stop in front of the Decepticon leader.

Megatron let the seconds tick away.

Dart rocked from foot to foot uneasily, and Megatron's optics met hers, a slow smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Finally, he spoke.

"Courier," he said, calling her by her function and not by name just to watch her fidget. Leisurely, he inclined his head, and the dim light caught the silver of his shoulders, painting him with gunmetal-blue hints. Dart only had eyes for the fusion cannon. Even though it was not raised, and pointed at the ground, it practically sucked in the light around it and held it in a black tube of destruction and malice. "I have a question for you."

"Yes, sir?" she asked, her hands fluttering around her hips, fingers reaching for the latches on her carriers. She managed to catch herself before she opened them and thrust her hands inside; finally, she ended up tucking her hands behind her, lacing her fingers together at the small of her back.

"How did you escape?"

Of all the inquiries she'd expected, that wasn't the one. All the hours Dart had nervously spent working up plausible answers and explanations were written off as a complete waste of time. Well, not a complete waste, she'd actually thought most of them up while practicing transformation again. Dart had managed to make it through three fairly smooth transformations and not plow her hood into the floor or get stuck; not doing it for a month had made her realize that turning into a sports car sure as heck wasn't like riding a bicycle. Hmm, never mind. It had sort of been like a bicycle when she'd had her two left wheels spinning in the air for ten minutes on that fourth transformation.

Taken completely off guard, she scraped her foot along the metal plating underneath her. A blue spark popped off the edge of her toe; it skipped along the metal floor before it fizzled out in mid-air. "How did I escape? Um... well, I ran."

"Did you acquire the habit of stating the obvious yourself?" Megatron scorned, clenching his fingers. "Or have you just have managed to poorly emulate Starscream? Either way, I am not amused. Again, how did you escape?"

Hunched above Soundwave, the robotic bird carefully crossed his feet over and scuttled down along the conduit until he was able to hop to the top of the computer monitor, black talons tapping lightly against the screen. Soundwave lifted his hand and traced his finger over the optic ridge on the bird's head, ignoring the conversation happening behind him.

A glare of blue appeared in Dart's optics. She squared back her shoulders, drew herself up to her full height, squaring her heels together as she kept her hands behind her. "Oh. Got it, right. You mean, how did I get out? I don't know why, but the field was down. I could smell it, it stopped smelling like electricity, and it wasn't making any noise. So... I pushed on the door, got out, and then I thought that I better go and find Thundercracker and Reflector..."

"How?"

"Er, how did I find him?"

"That was the question, yes."

"I... I tracked a smell." How could she tell him that what she had tracked... that odor that she could place as Autobot, that sweet metal and light scent of exhaust. With the memory came a flicker of Prowl's tired smile, and she shrugged suddenly, her spoiler rattling against her back. "I followed the smell of an Autobot."

Chuckling, Megatron shrugged a shoulder. "Ah. Interesting. Funny, I thought they all reeked of their foolish notions of nobility."

Dart quirked up the corner of her mouth. "I guess some more than others, sure."

The Decepticon leader's lips turned down sharply in contrast, the brim of metal overhanging his optics shadowed them into jabs of red. "You're sounding wistful. Perhaps you would have preferred to stay there? I suppose I shouldn't blame you. Someone newly activated and disoriented could be fairly... susceptible to their idealistic rubbish and their blatant lies. Anyway, moving on, you said that the field was down. How did it get that way?"

"I don't know how," she hurried to say, shifting her weight and releasing her hands from behind her back to hang at her sides, fingers twitching. _Wistful? Where did he get that from? Yeah., I was really wistful to be in there for a month..._ "They kept mentioning some problems with seeping water. It might have been a short."

"Lucky that it was just your cell that lost power, then."

"There might have been more that did. Er, lost power, I mean. I didn't go and test any of the other ones, I just wanted to get out of there before they came back."

"But you had to free Thundercracker. His cell didn't lose power, did it? The Autobots don't exactly maintain the largest dungeon in their little 'Ark'." He crossed his arms across each other and was quiet for a moment, staring through her. "I would be annoyed to think that you took it upon yourself to get free by... other means."

Dart blinked, and her hands came up defensively, then dropped back to her sides. "The Autobots didn't let me out, if that's what you're implying." A faint flash of annoyance flickered in her optics. _Yeah, if it had only been that easy... _

Laserbeak lifted his head and cawed softly; Soundwave instantly silenced the bird with a quick, light rap on his bill and continued to work on the computer without ever looking up.

"No? Let me tell you a little about a scenario that's been running through my head, and you can tell me what I'm actually implying before you say that. There's this new recruit, who is captured by the Autobots," Megatron said, enunciating every single word. "They fill her little foolish head with their idealism and offer her a place in their ranks, telling her that all she needs to do is to return to those who she had previously pledged her loyalty, and perhaps act as a spy or a saboteur for a short time, and then she can frolic the rest of her life away."

Dart's spoiler rose over her shoulders, the tips peaking sharply upward from behind her back, her fingers clenching into loose fists. She felt the blade grind down the groove of her arm. "You forgot some stuff; mostly about being stuck in... a box for a month. Oh, yeah... and then when I got out, I got ripped up the side by a giant metal lizard. Somehow, I don't think that's quite part of that picture you're getting at. That wasn't frolicking. It was yelping and bleeding - er, leaking - all over the woods."

Ignoring her justification, Megatron paced by, then turned on his heel and walked past again. "As leader of the Decepticons, it sometimes is my unfortunate duty to let my mind wander down unpleasant roads. That does include those - hmm, how shall I put this - oh yes, potential betrayals..." He leaned forward, and Dart could feel the heat wafting from the gaps in his plating as if she was standing in front of a blast furnace of anger and barely contained power. "But you were saying that you followed some Autobot's trail to Thundercracker's cell?"

"I followed Pr - I mean, I did, yes, I did."

"That is one area I'm glad my prodigious senses fail me in comparison to my underlings. I would hate to have to actually smell the inside of that place. Between the Autobots themselves and the fleshling filth they surround themselves with, I'm afraid the only way to get rid of the stench would be fumigation by fusion... cannon, that is."

"Fleshling filth...?" she echoed.

"Yes yes," Megatron said, waving his hand in dismissal and half-turning his back to her. "The organic things that populate this world. They reek, even to me. I would think it would be unbearable to someone with your enhanced sensors." He shrugged, chin tilting enough to glance over his shoulder, and then his lips did something unpleasant... it was not a smile. "Although, I must say, they smell interesting when they burn. Nothing like the aroma of processed carbon. I equate it with victory."

The girl recoiled with a violent snort, as if she was coughing out that odor from her olfactory unit. Her hand came up, the curve of her fingers reaching for the side of her helmet once more, like she'd done earlier with Starscream. "I - I'd rather not smell that," she stuttered.

She didn't. It had been enough to awake years ago with an imagined, sickly-sweet smell in her throat; one October, she'd accidentally burned a chicken breast in the oven and had to go throw up outside for an hour because she couldn't get the stink out of the house or out of her head. The phrase 'charred beyond recognition' shouldn't apply to human beings in any point of their lives - especially not people you loved - it should only refer to steak.

At her reaction, a wicked gleam unfurled in Megatron's eye, and he rounded on her.

"Is that right? You realize that if we were able to wrest control from the Autobots, it would have been all you could smell well before you were ever brought on line. I have tried to burn them from the face of this mudball on several occasions, only to be undermined by the incompetence of my own disciples. Like Starscream, who's own attempts at planetary genocide have always failed spectacularly."

Dart's mouth gaped wide with incredulous shock and disgust before she managed to settle her jaws together with a sharp click. Her hands opened and closed at her sides, and the tip of a knife blade peeked from the slot on her wrist, then jerked back in again. Words sputtered, and then expelled out with the force of stress, fear, and fury - she knew she sounded like a badly tuned engine, but she couldn't stop herself. "Leave him out of this, he's not like you! Undermined by incompetence? No. You're undermined by the way you treat people, mechanisms, oh people, who cares what I call it right now. You- you set me up the first time, on the beach! You knew I couldn't fight, not against those guys, not hand to hand, and still you sent me somewhere where knew they'd get me, and then you left me behind in the canyon!"

Megatron calmly brought his hand up and scratched thoughtfully at his jutting chin. "I'm not sure whether to laugh at you for the pedestal you've obviously put that idiot Starscream up on, or to beat you down until you remember your tongue and your place. Interesting dilemma, isn't it?"

The courier's spoiler came up and forward as she dropped her head between her shoulders and started to sink down into a crouch. It was as if she was either going to transform into her car mode or brace herself to lunge forward and run. Her fingertips had almost touched the floor before she shook herself out of that awkward hunch, bounded upright, and stood stiff-legged, locking the struts in her knees, her calves trembling with the strain. "You find that _interesting_?!" she barked furiously up at Megatron, rising onto her toes, back hollow, long flanks quivering, managing to stretch herself out to appear even higher on the leg than she actually was. " I nearly got deactivated!" A growl started to fight its way up out of her throat, but it wasn't deep rumble of challenge, it was the high-pitched, sing-song sound of defensive retreat. "You set me up! You set me up to get captured and you set me up to die."

Bemused, Megatron merely looked down at Dart, then over at Soundwave's back.

"Not at all." he said, with a mendacious chuckle. "Why would I do a thing like that to you?" "Because- because you're... "

_A cold fueled psychotic. An insane, power mad megalomaniac... no wonder the Autobots want to--_

Feedback squealed in her audio receptors and drove into her sensors viciously; as solid and hurtful as a spike gouging out the liquid center of a wide open eye. Dart yelped out loud and clapped her hands over the sides of her helmet, twisting from side to side as she crow-hopped up and down. It didn't do any good, instead, the noise wrapped around her thoughts like a choke-chain and pulled tightly, forcing the girl into a stiff line, heels together, hands dangling by her sides, head tipped slightly back, exposing the pale grey underside of her throat to the bulky, bucket-helmeted mech towering above her.

_Do not voice those thoughts. _

Dart didn't know if she actually heard someone say the words or simply thought she heard them in the squall of feedback. Maybe it was her subconscious attempting to give her some fairly intelligent advice for once; Megatron's mass was less than two meters in front of her, within striking distance of his fist. _Fist? Shut up, Dart, shut up, shut up, forget the fist, you're within vaporizing distance of his cannon. If he didn't have a problem making you get caught my Autobots to prove a point, what's stopping him from turning you into ash and getting Rumble to sweep you into the disposal? Nothing. Shut up! _

Bouncing around within her audios, the noise screeched into a fever pitch, echoing a set of claws raking down a slick pane of glass, then went silent. At the abrupt release of sound, the courier seemed to fall back in on herself, shivering and chewing at the air a few times in an attempt to realign the over-strained cables in her jaw.

"Well?" Megatron said, eyeing her. "Another circuitry short, I assume?"

"I- I think so."

"Starscream needs to work on his repair skills. If this continues, it could be hazardous to your health."

"I- I know, sir," she mumbled, her audio sensors buzzing and whining slowly down into normal parameters. Her attention was drawn behind him for a second by the silver flicker of another school of fish. They hung in a semicircle, their fins barely stirring in the current as they stared in through the window; fanatical Romans eager to see the lions released and munching down their daily recommended dose of political enemy.

"I think- I mean, I'm still a bit shaken up."

"Still? That horn caught you in the chest, not in the head."

"I know. I know... well, not really. I don't know. Maybe it's from before, when the red and yellow guys were using me as their personal courier punching bag?"

"Red and yellow? Ah, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker? Yes, well... that is an annoying tendency of those two. Girder or fist?"

"Er.. fish? Um, erk, fist. Fist," she corrected hastily, taking a step backwards.

"Feel fortunate you weren't where they could get their hands on girders," he replied. "Now, in answer to your question, I did not set you up to die. I did, however, set you up, and even though I don't have to give you my motives , I'm feeling generous today. Simply, you had to prove that you had the abilities to remain one of my Decepticons. I have no use for weaklings in my cause. My goal is to win, not coddle along a group of fools that will not achieve my goals, unlike Optimus Prime."

Turning his back on her, he walked towards his chair and continued to speak. "A courier who can't get through enemy territory alive is no good to me. Obviously, you can't fight your way through," he chuckled as he settled himself down into his chair, servos whirring until he was comfortably ensconced within its frame. "You can't take even the most minor of hits. But, since this crew of Prime's seems to have been hand-picked for their archaic morality, your gender might prove to be an advantage... for once."

"I don't think that those two, er... Sideswipe and Sunstreaker cared what I was, honest."

"I did say 'might', didn't I?" he sighed, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Really, Dart, you do need to learn to listen. Now, speaking of listening, I want you to take a message down to the cell bay for me. Tell the guards that they aren't to kill the prisoner... yet."

Dart nodded, and when he dropped his hand, she hurried for the door. Abruptly, she stopped in mid-stride, and glanced over her shoulder, ponytail bobbing nervously as she fidgeted. "Sir?"

"You were listening, weren't you? I don't need to repeat myself, do I?"

"No, no, sir, I did, but... permission to speak?" she asked.

He toyed with the idea of dismissing her, merely to emphasize that he was in complete control, and then curiosity got the better of him. "Granted."

"What are you going to do to him?"

"Him? Starscream? Well, one of these days, I'm afraid it will be him or me, and I don't lose."

"No, no... Prowl. The Autobot."

"The Autobot? Ah, you mean the wretch in the cell bay? If he doesn't deactivate on his own, I thought I'd let him enjoy the tender mercies of my troops. I rather am partial to the idea of pulling him apart, joint by joint until he deactivates, and then sending the stinking heap back to Prime with my deepest regards. But, I don't think that there will be much left of him when we get done with him. Perhaps I shall mount his head on the tower's communications spire and let him look down on this pathetic planet. Prime would find that utterly crushing. His trusted and faithful advisor doomed to watch helplessly as we conquer this world and Cybertron, ending that pathetic resistance that those fools always seem to think will stop me."

Megatron chuckled again, then leaned back against his chair and steepled his fingers. "That's a fitting end for him, looking to the future for all eternity. Well, at least until his head rusts and his optics fall out."

"You're going to kill him? Don't we - I mean, aren't we going to trade him for Reflector?"

Megatron threw back his head, laughter rolling from his chest as he settled his bulk farther into his throne and rested his cannon on the arm of the massive chair. "Why would I do that? It's like I told you. You have to prove yourself worthy to be a Decepticon. Either Reflector gets out on his own or he doesn't. As for the Autobot, of course I'm going to kill him. Unlike those soft-hearted idiots, I have no intention of letting something roam that might destroy me later."

"You might do well to think about that." he offered, crossing his arms and tapping the rim of the fusion cannon with his fingertips. "That little bit of advice I'll give you once, and only once. Unlike Starscream, you might have the sense to understand it."

Dart nodded, then hesitated, her left foot drawn up slightly, as if she was a deer on the edge of a meadow, nervously debating if she should step forward or turn and take flight. "Understood."

"Any other questions for me?"

The courier shook her head, saluted. Her heels kicked up as she ungracefully scrambled to get out of his presence. The door whisked shut behind her.

Megatron chuckled, then turned to Soundwave, who had been eerily silent this entire time.

"Well?"

"Query completed."

"And?"

" Conceivable."

"Interesting," he said. "I assume that I managed to cause enough of emotional distress you needed to analyze the little twit's response pattern? I have to say, I thought I showed considerable restraint in not knocking her across the room for her glitchy behavior."

"Restraint appreciated. Analyzation completed."

The whirr of the cassette in Soundwave's chest shifted briefly into a low, growling noise, as if the tape had gotten stuck on a gear. It silenced itself as quickly as it began.

"This could prove interesting." Megatron smiled. "Not that she's much use to me as anything but a lever to hold Starscream in check for a while. However, if it is true, I'll take that tactical advantage." He turned his head slightly to look at Soundwave. "And now that I'm thinking about tactics and Autobots, make an announcement that everyone is invited to watch that one in the cell bay meet his demise tomorrow. Give the girl enough time to get downstairs and tell the guards first, though, I needed an excuse to send her away."

He settled back into his chair. "I do like the idea of spiking his head on the tower. Perhaps our network will get better reception, eh, Soundwave?"

* * *

"Hit him again. A cube says he doesn't last the night!" Frenzy laughed as Skywarp's fist slammed into Prowl's chest.

"Just a cube? I think more than that's hit the floor out of him already. Make it two."

"I don't have two," Frenzy replied, spreading his fingers wide.

"Ah well. I'm enjoying myself enough to not worry about the bet. You can pay me back later."

Prowl choked on a bubble that flew out of his lips as the Decepticon picked him up by the throat and shook him.

"Guess what? This is for that wing strut you blew off me down at the docks," the black purple mech growled, punching the white one twice in the mid-section, as hard as he could. Prowl's fuel pump gave a leap in his chest; he felt like it was trying to force its way out of his throat and dash down the hall.

"I'm glad I made...such...an impression... on you," the tactician coughed. It took all of his effort for a faint grin, but he managed. Skywarp reared back and slammed his fist into Prowl's jaw; Prowl's vison blurred and faded, then came back on line with a cold, clear view of Skywarp's mirthful face millimeters from his own. Once more, Prowl wished that he still had his weapons. Skywarp wouldn't have dared to get this close to him if he thought Prowl might actually be able to hurt him; he was nothing more than a bully and coward, and that hadn't changed in all the time Prowl had known him.

"I'll pull your voice modulator through your tail-pipes!"

"I think you might want to leave him alone."

Skywarp was so startled by a voice that wasn't Frenzy's that he let Prowl crumple to the floor. The Autobot collapsed down onto his hands and knees, found himself staring at the floor, optics following the lines of welded plating as he struggled to conserve the amount of energy took just to keep from falling into a heap. What remained of his left door twitched and sparked, torn wires exposed to the air.

"Why?" Skywarp muttered angrily.

"Because this prisoner is supposed to be kept alive. Megatron's orders."

"Ah, you're full of it." The Decepticon started to reach for the Autobot at his feet once again, urged on by Frenzy's ripple of laughter. "Besides, he hasn't given me a decent scream yet."

Dart's spoiler flattened sourly against her shoulders. "I'm only bringing the message I was told to bring down."

Skywarp stepped out of the cell into the hallway and wiped the edge of his hand off on his upper thigh, smearing fuel across dark metal. Striding over to the courier, he crossed his arms and thrust out his chest as he glared down at her. Lingering indecision on his face turned to malice. "Like I'm going to listen to one of Starscream's toy soldiers."

"Leave me alone, Skywarp," Dart replied, rocking back a step. _Of all the guys that could have been down here on this duty, it has to be him. Wow, what a day all around, first you get the Starscream lecture, then the Megatron debrief, and now Skywarp's just being a jerk, not that you should expect anything else from him, huh? Heck, I only need to trip and fall down a flight of stairs on the way back up and the day can end on a high note... welcome home, Dart. _"I'm not in the mood for this right now, okay? I'm only bringing the message I was given, and it's from Megatron, honest. You want me to go back upstairs and tell him that you're not taking orders from the idiot?"

The jet-mech stalked forward, leaning down to blow out a stream of oily, foul-smelling air into her face. "Not in the mood? Aw, too bad for you, because I am. What are you going to do, snap at me?" he retorted slyly, waggling fuel smeared fingers in front of her nose. "Hey, though... I heard that you're good at that."

Embarrassment flattened itself over the courier's grey features. It was bad enough that she now seemed to growl more than a percolating coffee-pot... but worse, somehow, to know that her appalling, behavior was getting tossed around the base in humor. She dipped her head, coughed out his smell, and when her gaze came back up, it held an angry glare. "I'd like nothing better, but I don't want to get rabies, thanks."

Skywarp snickered, and pulled his hand back, mostly to cover the fact that he wasn't about to let her know he didn't know what rabies was. "Yeah. Whatever. What it comes down to is that I take my orders from Megatron. Not from brain-fried little scrap heap rejects Screamer builds so he can make himself a friend."

"Look, I told you. Those were his orders, and you're not listening to them. So, I'll just trot back upstairs and tell him you're above his orders when someone else relays them on his command."

"Hey," Frenzy piped up, nervously glancing up at Skywarp. "She sounds like she's telling the truth."

Skywarp snorted and swept his wings back behind him. "Fine. He won't die," he replied, gesturing to Prowl. "He'll just be amazed at what he can live through. And don't try to tell me that Megs ordered that the Autobot be untouched, because then I'd know you were lying."

"He didn't say that, no," she replied, wincing as a small draft of air brought the odor of Prowl's injuries wafting through. "He said something about... er, that he wanted to be the one to spike his head on the communications tower. I guess in front of everyone. I didn't catch all the details, I was on my way out to come down here."

Laughing, Skywarp threw back his head, his fingers tapping his elbow. "Ha, okay, that's something the boss would say. Head spiking doesn't seem to be up your alley, girly."

"No... no, I'm afraid not." _Unless it was yours, _she wanted to say, but decided that it wasn't the smartest thing to do with a guy who had two guns strapped to his arms and a rather nasty attitude. Didn't mean she couldn't think it and enjoy it, though.

The dark mech turned to gaze down at Prowl, who had turned his head quietly, watching them. Skywarp met the tactician's optics with an evil smirk. "You hear that, Autoscum? Something for you to look forward to." He shifted his weight, clattering his wings, then turned back to Dart. "All right, fine, go on, go away, you've given me the message. He'll live through the night, but that doesn't mean he has to enjoy it too much."

Dart glanced over at the tactician, then looked away slowly. "He... he doesn't smell right."

"Smell right? What's he supposed to smell like? A good bottle of energon?"

"No, but he smells like everything's leaking out of him. Far be it from me to tell you your job, but... he doesn't look so good, either. But, hey, you obviously know what you're doing... although, it's going to prove pretty, um, awkward if he dies."

The mech followed her gaze to Prowl, and smiled widely, beaming with actual pride. "Oh, trust me. I've done this plenty of times. Don't worry your little head about it. He'll be more than alive enough for Megatron's purposes."

"Right..." she said dubiously, scraping her foot against the floor. "I'll just go back upstairs then, and let them know who's down here beating on him. That way no one else takes the blame if you screw up," she said, eyeing Frenzy. The small mech looked around, realized the gist of what she was getting at, and even though he wasn't exactly the smartest of the Decepticons, he also knew he didn't want to get anywhere close to Megatron's bad side: it tended to be on the same side as his fusion cannon. He hurried out the end of the cell-bay, and the door ground shut behind him.

Realizing he was suddenly alone with the girl, Skywarp's grin became conspiratorial. "Wasn't this the guy who tossed you into the brig? Come on, why don't you join me, give him a kick or twenty?" He stepped closer to her, and lowered his head, his mouth close to her audio receptors. "Bet it would feel pretty good, wouldn't it?" he asked, reaching out as if to set his arm across her shoulders.

Dart ducked under his elbow, and scrambled away out of range.

"Why not? Can't tell me you don't want to take a crack at him for locking you up."

The courier frowned and ducked her head to stare at her feet for a second. Huh, funny, from this view, it looked like she was wearing a pair of running shoes. Totally random thought, but one that helped her avoid the realization that was creeping an ugly, spiteful path into her head. As much as she'd like to think that she wasn't that sort of person, and as much as she didn't like Skywarp or the greasy, crawling feeling on her plating when she had to be around him; she had to admit something.

_He... he's right. I want it._

Her foot twitched. Someone else could sit in that place and rot for a month... then when he got back to his crew, they could yell at him about how he was careless and threaten him left and right. Sure, it wasn't right, and it wasn't fair... _and, hey, Dart, really nice, coming from someone who ducked behind the Geneva Code_.

Guilt popped spite and frustration as if it were a soap bubble.

_Great. I'm in the After School Decepticon Special on peer pressure... Just Say No. That's what Nancy Regan would do. Then again, I'm betting if me and Nancy swapped places, she'd just go and stop the Cold War all by herself. Ha. That would have been the real inspiration for the President's 'Star Wars' anti-missile system. Transforms from a Space-Ray Satellite into the First Lady, and back again. Probably would be better at it than I am, that's for sure. _

"Why?" she said after a moment, shoving her hands down towards her hip-carriers. Her fingers fluttered on the latches; she clicked the clasps open and shut a few times with the sound of a pen being tapped nervously against teeth.

Skywarp paused and stared down, as if he was rolling the word 'why' around his head. Sure, he knew what the word meant, but he honestly couldn't for the life of him figure out how it related to kicking Prowl in the mid-section until something burst. "Why? Because he's an Autobot, that's why. You scared of him?" he asked, as a leer twisted the pale metal of his lips.

"No," she replied, retreating two steps away. "I'm... I'm not."

"What's the problem, then?" he goaded. "Promise you, it'll be fun."

"I guess I'm just not keen on that idea of fun," she muttered.

"You don't like that idea of fun?" was his skeptical snort. "Ahhh. I get it now," he said, reaching out a hand in an effort to clamp it down on her shoulder and spin her to face him. "You think you're too good to get your hands dirty, don't you. Since you're Screamer's little pet, you think that puts you out of the rank and file of the rest of us."

Dart spun around, ducked out from underneath his fingers.

"I'm not anyone's pet," she replied angrily, scraping her foot along the floor.

"Could've fooled me. Okay, you delivered your message and turned down my invitation for some fun, so why don't you scurry back upstairs to your whiny master now. He's missed you. The rest of us don't get down on our knees and thank him enough."

Dart's lips pulled back, framing another low growl. This one she didn't even try fighting back into her chest. "I am going upstairs right now, don't worry, because I know for a fact that you'll cover your own tail if he dies. Since I'm the one who ran you the message, there's a good chance it will come back to me. I'm not spending one more minute in a box, no matter what, and I'll do what it takes to keep it that way, even if it if means I go and tattle away. So, stick that up your throttle, or afterburners, or whatever you use for that. But I'm so not taking the blame for this one."

Skywarp looked down at her and drew himself up to his full height. A burst of yellow fire blasted out from under his right heel, singing a dark circle onto the floor plating beneath him. Then, a torrid stream of laughter gurgled out of his mouth. His arm lunged forward, and he grabbed the edge of her throat guard before she could dodge out of the way and hauled her to him, until they were nearly nose to nose. "Listen here, girly," he growled, deep voice scuttling up from the dark recesses of his throat; his words crawling out of his lips like a river of roaches. "You don't want to screw with me, you understand? I don't care if Screamer's personality engrams got accidently transferred into your addled brain when he found you. No girl is going to manipulate me with wannabe politicking and lame schemes. I tolerate it from Screamer because I have to, Megatron needs him still. You, uh uh... all I have to do is this-"

A pop, a hiss, and air rushed to fill the black vacuum where Skywarp had been standing. With the feel of his fingers still pressed against her throat, the courier's hand flew up and attempted to scrub the sensation off. Curving, cool glass and warm abruptly pressed against the small of her back; she spun around, staring up at the black mech as he finished fully materializing from his teleport.

"Surprised?" he asked. Dumbfounded, she gaped but didn't answer, and he grinned as he plunged his arm forward to chop his hand across her throat. "No, wait - you're dead."

Whirling, flailing, Dart flung herself forward and bolted across the hallway, flattened herself to the wall. Her fingers balled into a fist.

The mech burst out into incredulous, mocking laughter.

"What are you going to do? Hit me? Come on, Dart. Let's see what you've got."

Dart lowered her arm slowly to her side, turned her head away. When she spoke, her voice was awkward and thick. The mixture of her Northwest accent and ire burred her words into rough, struggling speech. "We're supposed to be on the same team."

"Oh, yeah, we are, aren't we?" Skywarp nodded, before regarding his hand. The remaining bit of Prowl's fuel was oozing down between his knuckles, helped by the pull of gravity. It collected down on the end of his fingertips, poised itself to drip onto the rusting floor plating below. "You know what though? I don't want you on my team. You're worthless. You can't fight. You can't fly. All you can do is run fast, big whoop. You're just another one of Starscream's little pets, like I told you, and this time he even made one that growls like a freaky turbo-hound. You want to be on my team, then you better learn to be nice to me.

"So, why don't we play a game together, then we'll be buddies. Pals. It's an easy game, I bet you and Starscream play it all the time, don't you?"

Lavender fingers abruptly thrust into her face. A droplet of Prowl's fuel flung off the end of his fingertips; Dart jerked back as it passed by her optic and spattered onto the wall behind her.

"Nice doggie. Lick it off."

Prowl coughed out the mouthful of coolant he'd been holding, the sound covered up by Skywarp's bray of laughter.

Dart's ragged snarl at the insult was followed by her lunge; her mouth snapped a fraction of an inch away from Skywarp's extended fingers. The jet-mech yanked his hand back, stumbled a step, and then responded with a swift punch of retaliation. It flew past her jaw as the courier ducked back down to the floor, gathered her legs under her.

Skywarp snorted with contempt. The black mech stood easily, wings outstretched, hands in front of him, ready to grab her wrist and send her to the sprawling. The courier's optics narrowed and she shifted over onto her hip slightly, and her left blade flicked out, extended past her hand.

The tactician pushed his hands underneath him, partially levered himself up, watching. Something wet trickled down his chest and he sighed softly to himself as he accessed system damage. Most of his non essential functions had shut down entirely- his extra calculation banks were off line, his damage warnings had long since quit bothering to remind him as to what was wrong...and his internal chronosphere had stopped working completely. _Well, at least no one will really know my time of death - including me... well, that's a morbid sense of humor now, isn't it?_ He coughed again in an attempt to dispel the coolant pooling in his throat module.

"Oooh, you're going to stab me?" Skywarp jeered.

Prowl couldn't help his faint smile, even if it was focused on the floor again.

_You always underestimate everyone, Skywarp. You're watching the wrong thing, not her arm or that knife... _

Knife snapped back into wrist as Dart's foot lashed upward. Skywarp grunted as her toe caught the edge of his knee; the cracking sound sent the courier bounding back, at first surprised that she'd even hit him, then shocked at the strength of her own blow; a piece of broken metal poked out from the side of his smashed joint. An involuntary wince escaped her as she half-crouched down in the hall, legs ready to push off in any direction to escape the mech's retaliation.

_Exactly what I expected, and he didn't. _Prowl thought. _Not that I like to say this, but there's a reason they haven't won. They're too busy deactivating each other. _

Skywarp lunged a step towards her, and then his voice yowled out his surprise as the ragged chunk of metal tore farther out the side of his knee.

"_Skywarp! Report to me immediately!" _

The communication over the intercom startled both Decepticons. Dart jerked wildly to the left, spun halfway around at Megatron's voice. Immediately, Skywarp took advantage of this, trying to punch at her. She scrambled aside in a windmill of limbs, and the blow only struck her flank, but it was more than enough to knock her lighter frame back into the hallway away from him. The mech limped forward, and the girl rolled to her feet and braced herself, spoiler pinned flat against her shoulders as she snarled out a wordless warning to him, blue optics focused and bright.

"_Report! I want a word with you! Now, or I'll merely take Frenzy's review about how you deal with my orders." _

Skywarp stood there, then backed off unexpectedly with a rattle of wings. Slowly, a faint shimmer surrounded him as his teleportation systems kicked in.

All that was left behind in the empty corridor was a red-slitted glare of absolute loathing as his optics remained focused on the courier; then the bright image melted into the black void that marked his passing.

Dart remained stiffly in the hall, intakes sucking down great gulps of air in the silence as she tried to regain herself. The clatter of her spoiler echoed through the tight confines of the cell hallway and bounced off the metal corridor; the sound resembled a pressure cooker slowly cooling on the recesses of a back burner.

"I'm not overtly fond of him either." Prowl agreed with a cough.

The courier bounded straight up into the air in a flurry of leg. It was obvious that she'd forgotten completely about him until he'd said something. She took a few steps back, drawing her left foot up as if she was about to turn and leave.

Carefully, bracing himself with his hands on his knees, Prowl pushed himself upright one foot at a time, digging his elbow hard against the wall for support. Great gashes were ripped into his chest plate; the smell of fuel in the confined air of the hall was overwhelming. A sharp odor of cordite and singed electrical connections hung in layers as thick as haze, along with something Dart couldn't quite place, no matter how she struggled to assign the thin thread of sweetness to something within the morass of injury and pain. Her olfactory sensors struggled to make sense out of the jumble of information she was receiving and failed; instead, her processors filed away that particular odor away for future reference. She inclined her head slightly, scrutinizing him from top to bottom. He heard her sniff at the air, and then her foot slowly touched the ground and she settled her weight back against the floor.

"You look awful."

"Yes, well... that's not surprising, all things considered," he replied. "That bad?"

"Actually... er... yeah. I think you look like hell."

"I resemble the concept of an afterlife devoted to imprisonment and punishment for the sins of a lifetime? I don't quite see how that's relevant. Hmm, except for the imprisonment and punishment part, I suppose."

"Was... was that a joke?"

He offered her a weary smile in response.

Dart's surprise was evident in the tilt of her head. One hand came up and picked a bit at the edge of her elbow, as if she'd found a burr in the metal there, and then she lowered it back to her side.

"Fine. Okay, more like you were playing in a blender."

"Oh. Well." He really didn't know what to say, right now. He was so tired and hurt he honestly didn't care. Part of him, however, just wanted to stay there out of sheer grit and just to really make the Decepticons work at deactivating him. Although, he realized they'd enjoy it, so that took most of the pleasure right out of that thought.

"I suppose this is what you were waiting for," he offered slowly, changing the subject. "Me on this side of the bars."

She started guiltily, tucked her hands behind her back. "No, no," she lied, ducking her head. "But... if you'd just all... well, if you'd let me go, I guess - none of this would have happened." she offered finally, her voice stuttering and hesitant. Cautiously, she leaned back on the wall across from the cell, crossing her arms, tapping her fingers along her elbow nervously. Behind her, the metal hall seemed to be sucking the cold of the ocean right through it; she could feel every rivet pressing into her back like icy fingers. She brought up her hand and rubbed ruefully at her throat again, jittering; well, better that feeling than Skywarp's touch anywhere on her. "They wouldn't be upstairs talking about that they want to spike your head on the communications tower."

Prowl shrugged as much as he was able to manage with his door strut still jammed into his back. "Is that where it's going? That's surprising. Maybe Megatron thinks it will help with the reception. And, we can take it right back, all of it to the fact that if the Ark's autopilot had been able to compensate for gravity, none of this would possibly have happened. Could have, would have, should have..." he trailed off and coughed, attempting to clear his vocal system again. "There's not much to be gained from spending time on irrelevant hypothetical ideas under these circumstances. Besides, I've already thought of a million things I should have done to avoid this current situation."

Rocking her weight over her left leg, Dart stepped away from the wall and glanced at him, trying to avoid staring at the long fracture running across his cheek to his chin; the wound was seeping black fluid along his throat, greyish liquid was pooling in his neck guard. Lifting up her foot, she eased it behind her calf and itched lightly at the metal there, the tip of her toe rasping over the curve. "Wait, something surprises you? I sort of got the feeling nothing did."

"Ah, occasionally something does catch me off guard. The Geneva Convention, for example."

The girl winced, and drew back, once again feeling guilt poke a nose into her back as she surveyed the dank, wet walls of the cell-bay. It stunk down here, absolutely stunk; unlike the Autobot base there was no vent open to circulate the rancid, foul-smelling air. Dark and dank and nasty, a wet place to lie on, the spreading stain of rust in the corner, and they hadn't bothered to patch his wounds. Slowly, she brought her hand up to rub at the side of her head, then slowly lowered it back down. "I- It's not a big deal, and you know it much better than me that's for sure... I just read part of it once somewhere, that's all."

"I should have mentioned earlier that I found it odd reading."

Dart hesitated. "I like to read," she said, slowly, casting a glance over her shoulder to make sure that she was absolutely alone before she offered up a small, nervous chuckle. Her hands dropped and fluttered around her hips, but she didn't mess with the latches on the carriers for once. "I guess it's not riveting literature, sure... but neither was Catcher In The Rye."

The mech lifted his head and thought a moment, his blue eyes dim under the shadows of his chevron. "The title's familiar, but I'm afraid I've never read that particular book."

Grey fingers spread open, shoulders tilted down. To Prowl, it almost appeared as if the girl was going to bound forward into a run; instead she rushed into words. "I don't think you missed much. I personally didn't like it, to be honest. I kept wanting someone to walk in, shake the main character and explain to him that all teenagers have a lot of angst, really. I don't know, maybe I just don't get classical literature," she admitted. "Well, at least what gives one book the title of classic over another."

"That story is fictional, correct?

"Yeah, it is."

"I thought so. I actually remember Chip saying that it was fairly uninspiring as well."

"That's your friend, the guy, right – er, the human working towards his computer degree, right?"

"Yes."

"Oh, good. It wasn't just me who thought the main character was sort of a whiny jerk."

Prowl managed not to say that those words could easily have described Starscream as well, but did bring his hand up to his mouth to rub his chin and hide a faint smile at the same time. "Apparently not," he agreed. "You know though, what I as getting at was that usually Decepticons show minimal interest in the natives of Earth... plus, the Convention doesn't exactly seem the most riveting piece of literature the humans have to offer, I don't think. Not that I have much to go on, unfortunately, I've never been one for fiction myself, no matter its origin."

"I- I like it. Escape's..." she tilted her head and motioned to the bars, but wouldn't touch them. "Escape, I guess."

"Escapism is also something that I haven't been able to relate to very often," he admitted, settling his arm across his mid-section and bracing himself as he coughed again for a moment.

Dart shifted her weight from foot to foot again, obviously uncomfortable. "I think it's not a bad concept. You- you know you're probably not going to walk out of here. Doesn't that bother you at all? If you'd called for backup, or just left me there, you'd probably be in a whole different situation right now."

Prowl looked up at her, frowned slightly. His optics were no longer that bright, clear blue, but almost a deep blue grey.

"It bothers me," he told her softly. "Of course it bothers me. I can admit it openly that I don't want to die. Even if I did, I hadn't planned on it being for the amusement of a psychotic megalomaniac." Slowly, he settled back on the floor of the cell, his back to the solid wall behind him. Two deep intakes of air passed his systems and his optics dimmed for a moment. "If you're interested, though, I calculate an eleven point five percent chance that my head won't be spiked on the tower by the time morning rolls around."

"Eleven point five?" she echoed. Those were low odds. The sort you wouldn't bet on in a horse race, that was for sure.

"Well, shuffling data to get the answer I want isn't fair, nor is it something I'm good at. Eleven point five is the percentage I've calculated., taking as many variables into consideration as I can. I have no doubt that there's a rescue team on the way, or that Prime will contact Megatron and offer him a trade for me. So, even though I understand that Megatron will likely keep me alive as collateral, I also understand that well, it will only be as long as it takes your leader to get irritated and kill me on the spot just to spite Optimus. So, the question I'm still mulling over at the moment is - will any kind of recovery be effective before Megatron reaches the end of his temper?"

"I think he's reached it," Dart admitted, folding back a bit and tucking her hands behind her back.

"Oh? So, your message from Megatron to keep me alive was simply a bluff? Hmm. That definitely cuts into the percentage a bit. Now I have to say oh, one point three, if you were sent to finish me off."

"No, no... I just ran the orders down here."

"Ah. Good, so back to eleven point five," he said, not bothering to hide the touch of amusement in his voice. "It's not that high, I'll grant. But it is better than one point three." He had another reason for his calculations; they helped him pass the time and forget about the warnings spooling from within his mainframe. "I just... I shouldn't probably ask this, huh. Won't they try and get you out, though?" Dart asked, rubbing the side of her nose nervously with the edge of her hand. "I mean, the Autobots?"

Prowl let a low sigh escape him, turned slightly and braced himself against the wall of his cell. The energy bars kept humming, a low, constant throb of electrical currents that worked a rhythm into his framework and plating and made his head hurt even more. "I have every confidence that they're doing everything they can do." What was left of his left door poked hard against the wall, and he grunted, resettled himself. "But, realistically... I don't see them making it," he admitted. "But they are my friends, and they will try... unlike the Decepticons would... and did."

Dart shifted again, this time nervously. The thing Prowl noticed most was that she was still actually listening to him. Most Decepticons would have hit him a few more times to get him to shut up. The courier remained there; not a single word escaped her, but she stood in the hallway, not looking at him. Instead, she seemed to be looking anywhere but him. Slowly, she turned on her heel started to pace, this time her footfalls staccato and sharp. He watched her count off seven steps and turn back, seven more, over and over for a few minutes, her movements stiff and jerky, as if she was once again the one behind the bars again, and not him.

"We were both set up, you know."

The courier jumped and skittered a sideways step, long legs crossing awkwardly beneath her, the sound of her short, hopping strides clattering hollowly in the hall.

"What are you talking about?" she offered, glancing around as if she almost expected the long, dark shadows to be alive. Her body was defensive and tight. "No one set me up."

"No?" he asked quietly. "You really think that Megatron wouldn't shove you in front of a proton blast if it suited him?" With a long, rattling sigh, he leaned back against the wall.

"I... It wasn't like that," she said, apprehensively eyeing the speaker inset into the wall. "They just had to see that I could get out of there on my own. Survival of the fittest. I wouldn't be any use if I couldn't escape from there."

He shook his head and shuttered his optics closed before slowly opening them to eye the speaker insert himself, struggling to make it out through the glow of the bars. It was something he'd heard all throughout the war, this idea of survival of the fittest; and he hated the thought that once again, someone had allowed themselves to be led blindly and willingly down into Megatron's churning whirlpool of doctrine.

"Ah, the Decepticon manifesto. An army of soldiers led by a psychotic who commands through fear and intimidation, who will destroy everyone and everything that is native to this world. Of course, you realize that 'being of use' to Megatron means that one day, he'll put your finger on the trigger, and you'll be killing innocents that don't deserve to be caught up within our conflict. You really want to be useful that badly?"

A low growl suddenly escaped her throat, and she rounded on him. "Dammit, what is it with everyone saying I'm useless today? I got out of your base, didn't I?" she snapped, coming up on the tips of her toes as she drew herself up to her full height.

"You did, yes, and I'm not saying anything of the sort," he replied firmly as she attempted to twist his words. He wouldn't let her. "You've dodged around what I was trying to say, and pulled the bits you wanted to hear. There's no reason to get defensive and irate at me over what I'm assuming were not only Skywarp's comments, but Megatron's as well. I didn't make them, Dart."

"Starscream– "

Prowl brought his hand up to his temples and rubbed, trying to soothe the connection ache he was rapidly getting. A trickle of coolant dripped from the corner of his mouth and ran wet over his chest. "It makes sense now," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"Why Starscream drew our fire at the tanker. I had wondered."

The courier eyed him suspiciously, blue optics narrowing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, really. My attention is drawn to certain things. I'm a tactician, and behaviors that change and to something completely out of place make me attempt to understand the reason."

"Oh, great - does everyone think that?" she muttered, spoiler flat against her back._ What the heck, first Skywarp, and then now you... _

Prowl glanced sideways at her for a moment, then made a sound like he was clearing his throat. "Not like that. He drew fire from you to onto him at the docks. That's not the Starscream I know," he informed her with a wry smile, "and dislike." He wiped his hand across his mouth to clean it; and a thin film of lubricant stained the pitted metal of his forearm.

"Mechanisms change," she offered.

"We do, that is true." he replied. "But-"

She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Don't say it."

"Say-?"

"But not Decepticons."

The tactician chuckled quietly as he shook his head. "I didn't have to, did I?" He seemed to stare at a point past her for a long moment, and then he seemed to draw himself back from whatever memory had a hold of him. "Do you know why the Decepticons fight?" he asked suddenly.

"What? Uh... well... er, to conquer and go home," she said suddenly, rushing again into her words, head low between her shoulders. "When we get you to leave, we'll take what we need from this planet and then we'll leave and let these humans get back to their normal mundane little lives."

Prowl looked at her oddly, then slowly sighed and let the air escape his intakes in a soft, quiet hiss. The broken strut that poked out from behind his shoulder slowly twitched downwards, falling by slow, painful degrees until it rested flat against his back. "I don't think that will happen. Megatron will not be satisfied until this planet is stripped completely bare of all the natural resources it contains, and all life, including the humans, will be dead. Your leader sees this planet as useless, and he has no concern for anything he perceives as useless." Slowly, he lowered his head into his hand, wrapped his fingers around his chevron in an effort to support it. _I'm exhausted. Can't shut down, though. _"But you know that already."

"He'll leave them alone." Dart argued, her hands outstretched. Her fingers moved restlessly, punctuating every word. "They're beneath his notice."

"For now, yes. Until they finally comprehend just what he's doing to their world, and decide to take arms against him. Then he'll attempt to destroy them before they are able to muster themselves to be a serious threat."

"They know better," she growled. "You don't get it, do you? They know they couldn't win, unlike you Autobots."

The mech almost managed to force himself to his feet at that comment. His shoulders were shaking with tension, and he heard his voice raise slightly in pitch to equal hers. "Actually, tactically speaking? I think they could win. They aren't as helpless as you might think. But... how can you say that after what he's done to Cybertron? You truly don't think he'd do the same to... " he shook his head, feeling something pop in his shoulder under the strain. He knew he was going to probably die here, and yet once again, all he was feeling was this overwhelming sense of frustration at the entirety of the Decepticons once again. _Do they ever actually listen to themselves, what they're saying, ever? No, that would be logic, and logic is a word that doesn't exist in the Decepticon vocabulary for the most part. _"I suppose I forgot because I'm here, slowly leaking my life onto the floor, and you're not kicking me in my exposed circuits - but you are a Decepticon. You must find Megatron's Cybertron glorious."

Dart stopped in mid stride and struggled to hide her look of confusion. Her spoiler pricked up, then fell back, flattening slowly against her shoulders once again as she scuffed her toe against the floor. He knew someone buying time for a response when he saw it; right now the girl's slink resembled a certain red Lamborghini's posture when he was trying to come up with an excuse for his latest fiasco.

Prowl glanced up again, clearing his throat in an effort to catch her off guard enough so she might answer him honestly. "Do you?"

"I don't... know," she said softly, and began to walk down the hall again. "I don't remember much of it."

Prowl shook his head slowly. "Well, that does make sense." Even this slight movement even pained him now, sending tendrils of agony snaking down his linkage, curling up at the base of his neck and biting, chewing into his relays with deep, vicious fangs. "I suppose your area didn't see much of the war until the end of it, when he had nothing left to conquer," he said. "He assimilated those cities that tried to remain neutral, didn't he, and as long as your daily life was left alone, many of you never bothered to see what was going around you until it was too late. But... the cities he destroyed, the innocents he's melted down... the smoke and the overwhelming stench of carnage. Cybertron used to the most beautiful of worlds, and more than that it was our home. My home. Destroyed city by city for what- a need to conquer?" The recollections threatened to overwhelm him then, and he let himself fall back into that angry, hurtful void he was spiraling towards. _So much lost... _"Besides, what Megatron does to me, in the end, is what he will always do to anyone and anything he feels is in his way. Like everyone and everything around him, including the humans."

"Why do you care what happens to the humans, anyway?" Dart spat suddenly, the words rolling from her throat high and sharp as she barked out her facts. "They're just a mass of mixed up people who kill and do all the things you... we do. They fight, they argue, they murder, they shoot people in their wars. You make them sound like a bunch of poor, innocent victims. News flash, they're not any better than us. Half of them panic when they see us, the other half blame us for everything from gas prices to the hole in the ozone, and you just keep trying to help them, and they don't care, they just don't care if you do or you don't. Besides, you know what, who cares what we turn this blasted planet into? It's not like they care about it. They destroy it, just like Megatron does, for oil, for land, for whatever At least he has a cause, a lot of them don't think about anything most of the time except that they can do it, and it's in their way- just like you say we do."

"I don't think the question is 'why should I care', I think it is 'why shouldn't I care?' This wasn't their fight. Nothing but chance that brought us to this world. Why should it be destroyed because of chance, when we have the opportunity to save it?"

"Chance encounters wiping out the dominant species... It's happened before in Earth's past. I mean, like meteors."

"Ahh, that's a theory that's not too popular in scientific circles - but it is interesting, isn't it? Curious, I thought only paleontology students were the ones to put much stock in it yet."

Dart drew back slightly, her arm over the flat plane of her chest.

"It was... er, on PBS," she claimed hastily. "I think it was Nova... wait, no, maybe it was Cosmos. I forget which one."

"I enjoy that channel," he agreed. "Carl Sagan is an amazing man. However, the difference between Cybertronians and rocks from space is that we can make the choice not to not harm," he stated. "The asteroid couldn't. Therein lies the difference." Prowl held up his hand, watched the fuel flow from between his fingers and down his wrist. It oozed to his elbow and dripped slowly down beside him, mingled with the drying fluid on the floor beneath his knees. "What's his cause?"

"Huh?"

Completely thrown off of whatever track it was running on, Dart's brain couldn't come up with anything more intelligent to say.

"You said that at least Megatron has a cause. What is it?"

The courier hesitated, and chewed on the bottom of her lip, tasting an odd tang; it was as if she had stuffed a wad of tinfoil into her mouth and was happily chomping away with mercury fillings.

"...destruction of the Autobots," she offered finally.

"The reason behind that cause?"

Dart snorted, tossing her head back, and the curve of her grey ponytail scraped across her spoiler, leaving a few more scratches in the dark paint. Bringing her hand up, she scrubbed hard at the side of her head, then let her fingers drop back to her side. "Don't ask stupid questions you know the answer to."

"Why is it a stupid question?" he coughed, leaning his head down into his hand once more. His mouth opened slightly; green liquid drooled out of the corner of his lips and pooled in his palm. He analyzed the substance briefly. _Out of my main coolant lines - that tips my chances back to nine percent. _"I've never had a Decepticon try to explain to me the reason behind this war other than 'Megatron wills it'. I thought you might be different, in a way, for some reason. My mistake. My systems must be failing. I'm making a lot of mistakes today."

She stopped pacing and stood there again, her optics glowing in the darkened area. "I'm not different," she told him. "I'm not different, I'm just me."

"Then why didn't you kick me when Skywarp offered it? It's not like I'm in any shape to fight back," Prowl pressed, wishing he could have found the strength to get back onto his feet. Another system went off line inside of him with a soft warning chirp. _Number six. Well, I at least I really don't need infrared right now._

Dart's voice faltered. "I- I guess because you didn't kick me." she replied. Then she shrugged, the rattle of metal on metal harsh in the quiet of the cell bay. "Besides, I was told that I needed to get cleaned up, and not get dirty again."

"Right," Prowl replied. He brought a hand up to rub at his temples. The pinpoint of pain between his optics stabbed into his relays, over and over, as swift as a falling axe; and at her underlying sarcasm, he jerked his head up, glaring through the glow of the bars. Slowly, his fingers clenched along the torn edge of his forearm. "Well, then, may I suggest that when they pull me apart, you remain about fifteen meters away. There's not that much left in me - so, that should be enough distance to avoid the splatter of my internals."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks," Dart retorted, matching his undertone of bitterness with her own caustic growl. "I don't think they're going to pull you apart. They'll probably just shoot you. Anyway, I'm not really interested in watching, I don't go for that kind of stuff..." Her voice trailed off as he contemplated her for a long moment. "What?"

"He'll make you watch anyway," he informed her firmly. What was left of his doors lifted to frame his words. "You, Starscream, and anyone else whom he feels doesn't fear him enough. I'll be an example not only to the Autobots, but to anyone who dares defy him. Or even disagrees with him."

A soft crackle of static drifted out from the intercom, and the courier lifted her head, backed up a step.

"I don't disagree with him," she replied quickly, holding up her hands.

Prowl followed her gaze.

"Then I guess you have nothing to fear."

Instantly, she spun back to face him. He quietly met her optics with his own, his expression calm and level as he sighed out the last of his anger through his intakes. A low, metallic whine escaped her; a noise of trepidation. She turned then, abruptly backed herself into the wall - and then gathered her legs under herself and dashed out of the room, leaving him in the completely silent cell bay. The only thing he had left to do was gingerly lean back on the wall and try and collect his thoughts.


	9. Chapter 9

"Can't you just let me out? I've... look, I need out of here for a while."

"Orders are orders. That tower can't go up, Dart. I have orders not to raise it for anything or anyone, and those are straight from Megatron. Speaking of which, you better keep away from Skywarp for a while, he's completely torqued at you. What the heck did you say to him downstairs, anyway?"

"Downstairs?" the courier echoed, canting her head to the side. "Oh. Earlier." She shifted her weight back over her heels and frowned, then offered up a shrug. "I told him that Megatron didn't want P- the prisoner dead, that's all, and he sort of didn't like the message."

"Yeah, well, maybe he didn't appreciate how you told it to him, you think about that? Geeze, why'd you go and kick him?"

Dart's optics shuttered in a startled blink, then narrowed across the edge of her cheek into slits of angry blue. "Now wait a minute. I didn't start it - he did."

The blue mech chuckled. "Yeah, I don't doubt it. You seem like the running away type, not the starting it type."

"Yeah, well... Look, you don't have to raise the tower or anything."

He grinned. "Wasn't planning on it."

She sighed out a huff of exasperation. "I know. Can you maybe tell me how to get out from underneath, then?"

"You do know we're underwater, right?"

"Yeah. I swam last time, but the door I went out is closed off and locked down. It's underwater, I mean. Is there another exit higher up?"

Thundercracker scratched his chin. "Always one of the airlocks, I suppose, if you're desperate and in the mood for swimming. But an exit higher up? The whole point of raising the tower is that there's one main exit out of the water, dingbat."

Dart offered up another quick blink, rather startled at the word 'dingbat' coming out of Thundercracker's mouth. _Well, at least everyone else here seems to pick up on the human slang too, I'm not alone. _Spreading her fingers, she offered up a short laugh. "Yeah. I'm a dingbat, and I'm soon to be a wet one. No problem, I'll go hunt down an airlock. I need a run to clear my head."

"Aw, go check the lock on Cargo Hold B-Four. No one goes down there, the damn place is knee high in standing water and smells nasty, but you can probably get to it without bumping into anyone."

"Thanks," she nodded, her spoiler flattening across her shoulders at the mere thought of stepping into a roomful of rancid water with her heightened olfactory sensors. "Really."

Thundercracker waved a hand. "Eh, you would have found it eventually. This way you're not up here asking me a ton of questions and bothering me while I'm the one manning the tower controls. Don't need you starting anything with me, I don't teleport."

Dart shuffled her feet, scuffed at the floor with her toe. "Skywarp started it, honest. I'm sorry, he can be a real jerk," she mumbled. "Would... would you mind pointing me in the right direction to get down there? I- I don't know all the ins and outs of this place yet."

"Whoa there. That's an insult to us actual real jerks," he replied. "Ahhh, the cargo hold? Go to the lowest, stinkiest part of the ship and then find the set of stairs down farther than that. You'll be able to smell the ocean leaking in, that's for sure. Just remember to get back here before dawn. Megatron wants us all assembled first thing in the morning to get rid of that Autobot. Rumor downstairs tonight was that he's feeling creative."

"Creative?" she echoed, furrowing her brow and dipping her head. Her spoiler came up over the edge of her shoulders.

"Yep. I don't know details, only heard it might finish up over on the dam," he replied, the flaps on the edge of his wings raising slightly as he quirked a browplate at her. "But... you better haul off and run downstairs if you want to get out of here before someone comes looking for you – or you'll be scrubbing the floor again. You're destined for the mop, it seems."

The courier shifted her weight over the tips of her toes, flexed her fingers as if she was remembering a smooth metal handle, a bucket, and a whole lot of astringent cleaner. "Right, right, I know. Thanks."

Thundercracker smirked, shook his head, then raised his hand and waved her on her way. Dart hesitated, then brought up her fingers in an awkward salute, brushing them lightly across the edge of her helmet before she turned on her heel and trotted out of the control room.

* * *

"Haul him up."

Rough hands shook Prowl back into awareness. Slowly, his optics powered back up to see a leering face press close to his own; red slits burned over a cruel, white grin. With a deep guffaw of amusement, Skywarp cleared his secondary intake filters and leaned down close; a noxious backwash of processed fumes shoved their way directly into the tactician's olfactory sensors. It was as effective as a vial of smelling salts held under a fainting man's nose, and the injured, battered mech coughed and wheezed his way back into full cognizance.

"I informed you he'd be half dead by morning," his companion muttered as he crossed his arms and kicked a foot out towards Prowl's flank. He stopped just shy of connecting, and stepped back with a prim snort, flicking a stray drop of water off the end of his foot. "He's leaking all over the floor in here. Disgusting thing."

"Yeah. Well, just as long as he isn't fully dead," was the growled response. "Grab his other arm, Blast Off, and lift him up. See, he's not dead. Are you, Autobot?"

Prowl didn't bother to dignify the question by offering up an answer.

With a brutal laugh, Skywarp reared back and cuffed Prowl hard across the face. A strip of circuitry tore away from the inside of Prowl's mouth with the strike; it flew out of the white mech's lips and shot across the filthy cell, clattering into one of the myriad pools of filthy water within his prison that were scummy and foul with rust. Immediately, the jet-mech jammed his hand harshly into his captive's armpit, fingers knifing between the gap in the Autobot's rotator cuff and his shoulder. Grinning savagely, he twisted them deep into the mess of exposed, sparking wires and tubing. Prowl yelped with the pain as it flared down his relays. Twitching what was left of his doors back and forth, he managed to kick his heels underneath him and struggle to his feet, swaying back and forth like a faulty pendulum between the two mechs.

"Told you. If he was dead, he'd still be lying there."

"Yes, that makes a lot of sense," Blast Off replied, painting each word thickly with sarcasm.

"Come on, you, walk. I don't feel much like carrying you upstairs. You've got both legs left, Autobot, use them," Skywarp snapped.

Prowl was half-dragged forward a step and nearly fell down again. A mutual snarl echoed from both mechanisms as they forced him up onto his feet; he hung between them and coughed up long strings of half-processed, clotting fuel as Skywarp lashed out a foot and kicked the main door to the cell aside.

"Must we Combaticons drag this half dead carcass all the way to the dam? You'd think you jets could haul him up and out there. What are we supposed to do with him? It's not like his alternative mode is in driveable condition. I don't see why we couldn't merely hold the execution here," the Combaticon muttered. "It would make things so much simpler."

"You're a shuttle, aren't you?" Skywarp replied, towing the tactician down the hall. Prowl's feet got caught, and Skywarp stopped and kicked him twice behind the knee in an effort to force him back onto his feet. Finally, he gave up and just let Prowl drag as he walked; a shimmering slime-slick of fuel trailed after them. "That's your job. Hauling crud. This should be easy for you. Heh."

"My job is not to haul half dead, foul smelling Autobots, thank you very much," Blast Off replied; the expression he wore framed his disgust and obvious dislike of both the idea of hauling Prowl within his cargo bay, not to mention that he was stuck in the thuggish presence of Skywarp himself. Personally, the Combaticon didn't like any of the jets - they were rather stuck on themselves. Especially Starscream. He didn't care if that particular mech had released them from their confinement; the only reason Starscream had done it was because he needed someone to do his dirty work. Unfortunately, he had chosen them. There were more than a few passing moments where Blast Off longed for the solitude of confinement; that whiny, grating voice often gave him a horrible neuro-ache.

"If... if it's too much trouble... you could always... leave me in the cell," Prowl coughed.

"Shut up, Autobot," Skywarp growled, wrenching him towards the lift. Blast Off was thrown off balance and cursed as he smacked his wingtip into the wall. He hauled himself back upright by grabbing onto Prowl's torn door strut. A chunk of it ripped off in his hand and spattered fuel across his palm - he shook his fingers rapidly and wiped them on the wall.

"We must have missed much while being incarcerated on Cybertron," he said dryly, once he regained his composure. "But, I daresay that loading him up and taking him out to the dam to kill him seems rather inane."

"Well, this is Megatron's first execution he's gotten to throw since we've crashed on this mudball. Been a few million years since he last got to make a real example out of some Autobot."

"Yes, yes, examples, examples, yes, of course... Why else would you drag a prisoner out of a secure area to go and draw and quarter him on top of an un-secure dam?"

"Because this is a real event. Not someone getting cubed for a few million years." Skywarp shrugged. "Dammit, he's passed out again. Autobots are such wimps. Grab his feet so I can shut this lift door, come on, hurry up."

* * *

Early morning fog drifted up through the Douglas firs and painted layers of silvery-grey over the low blue hills. It climbed upward ever so slightly before cascading thickly back to the valleys and dips, and soaked the sagging, sharp-needled branches with dew. Slowly, the grey fingers of mist combed out the branches, dropping fronds downwards, laden with water. There was a faint breeze, a pleasant one that kept the moisture moving - but if you turned your nose into it long enough, there a sort of underhanded crispness to be felt in the draft, a sly nip to the grey swirls of air that solemnly warned of the fact winter would soon be encroaching onto the Washington landscape.

Vine maples twisted their way up towards the sky, spaced carefully around the edges of the clearing. Long, delicate twigs displayed peeling strips of bark that was as green as the rind of a fresh lime; red and gold veins branched upward to draw a clear path to the serrated leaves. Their tips were just starting to curl and brown; maple keys drifted off, caught by the wind to transform themselves to tiny helicopters.

One bent and ragged key fluttered across the clearing and drifted into the open gap in a mech's shoulder plating. The green Autobot watched as it landed, then carefully used the absolute tip of his forefinger to gently coax the tiny seed out. He lifted it up and balanced it on the tip of his finger before he smiled, blew out a soft puff of air from his intakes and let the seed pod float downwards, admiring the way it twirled, using its momentum as if it was a screw, driving itself towards nourishing soil.

Ironhide's back was to Hound, and the tracker shifted his observations to his friends for a moment. The old red mech's hands were knuckled into his hips, chin lowered as he grumbled to himself, muttering softly through his vocalizer. Bluestreak's shoulders were tense, his missile launchers twitching and jumping at every sound, feet braced against the earth and fingers tight on the stock of his gun as he turned his head from side to side. Blue optics were wary, surveying the forest around the small group of mechanisms as if he was fully expecting the rigid trunks of the pines to shift and waver like Hound's own holograms, tossing aside a disguise of branches to reveal that they were actually the entirety of the Decepticon forces here on Earth. Hound understood what was going on - they were getting bounce-back and ground clutter from the trees. Usually, it wouldn't have caused them any concern... but the stress of waiting wasn't helping.

He cleared his throat softly. "Prime?"

"Yes?"

"Did you want me to do another scouting pass on the area?"

"Not yet," was Prime's quiet reply. For the most part The Autobot leader shifted his weight and looked down at Hound. Fog had condensed along the edges of the still-warm exhaust pipes on the larger mech's shoulder; beaded moisture rolled down along the soft silver edges and trickled gently off of his elbow into the grass. "I need you here, we'll probably need to roll out on a moment's notice. The minute I hear back from Jazz, I'll need you to help plot us the quickest path through this terrain."

"Did his contact get in touch?"

"Yes, he's just waiting for coordinates. Bumblebee's back safely, though. Which is good, I was worried."

Hound nodded. Bumblebee had driven up and parked himself in line with the Decepticon base last night, waiting for them to move. He'd been sitting there quietly and working with minimal systems; no comm-links or open lines or scanners to give away his presence. No, he had sat and kept his eyes locked on the area where the tower would rise from the waters and spit out the Decepticons into the dark, and hadn't taken backup with him. Too much chance of them discovering more than one Autobot, he'd told them before rolling out of the Ark and heading towards the highway.

Even though Hound knew Bumblebee was both brave and incredibly resourceful - heck, he'd been responsible for saving his and Bluestreak's life more than once on a few missions gone awry - he still found himself worrying for his friend. His normally optimistic thoughts had slowly stepped down darker paths; he'd found himself dwelling on the results of his tracking skills. It was entirely possible based on the amount of fuel he'd tracked that Prowl's injuries could have killed him by now if Decepticons hadn't bothered to patch him up...

Hearing that Bumblebee was safe had lifted his spirits back up. One friend alive and home safely. Now he only had one more to go.

With that thought, speculative confusion slipped across the tracker's face, urged along by the arched lift of his browplate. Pausing to reflect on something, the green mech glanced down and frowned slightly, then his expression smoothed out as he eased a bit of sheltering dirt over the fallen maple key with the tip of his toe. "I know Jazz's contact is very reliable. I mean, he was the one who tipped us off that they were going to raid that research facility... but... can I say I'm baffled as to why the Decepticons would even bother to disclose anything like this to a human in the first place?"

Mirage's dry snort blasted through the silence before Prime could reply. The white and blue mech shimmered into view and high-stepped his way through the wet grass towards them. "Because it's easy to coax a journalist into handing you money for a good story. Preferably accompanied by pictures of someone else's dead body," he sniffed.

"Well, obviously, Jazz's contact ain't like the one's you've run into," Ironhide interjected.

"Not all are, I suppose," Mirage grudgingly admitted; however, his words held an undertone of arrogance and disdain. "Most, though. Not much better than retro-rats, only they're scavengers of society, not of the refuse heaps. Well, perhaps a little of both. Megatron has always dived headfirst into publicity when he can get it, even back when he was only a low-ranking Arena fighter. He always has been quite charismatic, even before he thought about conquering the galaxy."

Hound shook his head. "I didn't watch much of the Arena coverage. Most of it was before my time."

"Television, holo-net. No difference. A high body count makes folks take notice, and the sponsors like that, and they're the ones paying the bills. Entertainment. I remember the Arena when it went on the networks. They'd broadcast Megatron winning those fights, and he'd suddenly be talking up how he likened his wins to Cybertron itself, a reminder of how the governing council had lost our world's previous glory with complacency."

The tracker glanced up at Prime.

"Lost glory my skidplate," Ironhide muttered, shaking his head. "That creep just likes killin'. Always did."

"True. But then mechanisms started ignoring that fact and rallying to his words. In my honest opinion, we should thank the Cybertronian mass media for this mess we're in. Earth's no different. You wait," he sighed, ducking his head and allowing the shadow of his black helm to hood his optics, "contrary to what we've been led to think, the humans are afraid of us. Right now, they find us fascinating because we're still new and different to them... and Jazz is good at public relations. However, one major altercation where there's some serious damage to human life and property? Then we'll be vilified, just like we were back home until they finally managed to comprehend we were trying to keep him from conquering the planet. Too little, too late."

Bluestreak's doors flicked forward and then creaked back on their tight hinges. Distantly, his gaze focused on the mist pooling along the edge of the tree-line, curling through the bare tips of the trees, wreathing around them like smoke through broken metal girders.

Prime moved over a step. Throughout the interchange he'd merely stood and listened, but now he stepped forward and carefully settled his hand onto Bluestreak's shoulder. "I think what we need to concentrate on now is the fact that we need to move fast once Jazz comes through with coordinates. Hound, you've plotted all the quickest routes through the park?"

Hound shifted his weight back on his heels and nodded quickly. "I did. I know Mirage was having a bad time of it earlier, and I figured that a lot of us who have sports car modes would have the same problem." The tracker remembered how the white and blue car had spun himself into a frustrated morass of mud and water before he'd finally given up, transformed and picked his way out of the slop with a grimace of disgust. "Hang on a moment, Prime."

A flicker from the projector on the scout's shoulder caused a soft yellow glow to diffuse the area. Light refracted off of the mist in the air; green spears of brightness sparkled into tall pines, blue shimmers defined rivers, and the grey background of the sky itself trailed passable roads through the holographic image of Olympic National Park. "I managed to piece together most of this between the state maps I've scanned in and my own wanderings in the area." Hound offered. "According to everything I've seen, they've paved a lot of the roadways through here now, and even the sports cars should be able to drive up the logging roads, they're not bad at all. It hasn't rained enough to wash them out. A few more months and some of them would be impassable for anything but an off-road vehicle."

Prime nodded, and gently released Bluestreak. The gunner was eyeing the map, his attention caught by the intricacy of the holographic projection. Hound even had transparent deer roving through it, and a minuscule hawk circled the thermals above the mountain. "Do we need to worry about human activity?"

"We should be fine. I haven't seen anything else up here but a ranger's Jeep, and that went by me early this morning on the way in."

The Autobot leader nodded, tipping his chin in what passed for his smile. "That's good, so-"

A chirp from the comm-link announced Jazz's incoming transmission, and immediately all five Autobots froze in place, audios focused, waiting for the news.

* * *

Half shrouded and blue with distance, the snowy peak of Hurricane Ridge was mostly obscured this morning as it crouched over the deep green hills of Olympic National Park.

Red-streaked, spattered with age and orange crumbles of rust, the wall of Glines Dam jutted out between the two grey pillars that cemented it between the once natural rocky curve of the canyon wall. Originally built in nineteen-ten, the structure was a hodge-podge of old and new; the stained concrete wall was capped by four fairly new cross-pieces, there was evidence of new repairs, patches of bright grey slapped and mortared here and there. Deep within the edifice, the operation room too showed the strange contradiction of terms - round simple gauges, brass with vintage and mounted on the walls - beneath them resided modern-day computers, large banks of them showing energy output, gallons per second, tirelessly monitoring even now, when federal cutbacks had assured there were no humans on the grounds on a Sunday morning.

Pines clung precariously to the stone and rock surrounding the curve of concrete; grass and low lying bushes tangled and struggled between the medium-sized trees, clawing over each other and fighting desperate battles with the thick, thorny canes of non-native Himalayan blackberry vines as they sought the open pools of light. A constant stream of water chugged listlessly out of the spillover valve and rolled down the moss covered rock-face. The sluggish liquid tossed up thick spats of yellowish foam as collected itself into a listless, tree-trunk clogged pool at the bottom of the rocks... then it slowly began trickling down the carved channel. Gouts of steam snorted their way from the massive turbine vents on either side until the slight breeze grabbed it greedily and stirred into the thick mist of the morning.

Behind the steel and stone slurry curves, Lake Mills was black and calm, resting in placid disregard of the state law it had violated with its watery presence. No longer a steelhead and salmon spawning ground due to the lack of actual fish ladders on Glines, the lake was now only home to artificially stocked brown trout that snapped at any creature unlucky enough to fit down their toothed maws.

With a whisper of pelt rubbing against soaked brush, a yearling coyote deftly made his way down the slippery clay bank. Slowly, the thin animal moved into the lake until he was up in the water to his elbows and curled his long tongue into the water, ladling up mouthful after mouthful into his jaws. Stiff spikes of ground squirrel blood on his fur softened and drifted away to be gulped at ineffectually by tiny trout fry. When the brush-wolf finished, he turned and lightly bounded back up the bank, leaving paw prints behind him that slowly filled up with water and smudged back into the earth. His tan and gray tail brushed his cow-hocked knees as he trotted into the forest and was swallowed by the red bark of the mossy hardwoods on the pine forest edge.

A few small, nondescript shore birds trailed along the breakwater where the columns of the dam met the shale. They poked their beaks through the tangles of reeds and soupy mud, searching for snails and worms. Aerial dogfights of tiny gnats swarmed over their heads as they raked back pebbles under their black claws, tossing them aside in their frantic pursuit. Abruptly, they froze in place and rolled back yellow eyes to glance warily around them; their spindly legs were a channel of warning as the vibrations of heavy footfalls met earth. The birds responded to the threat of a sizeable predator and launched themselves into the sky, circling up and around before winging towards the opposite side of the lake.

An angrily grumbled query thrust itself into the silence between the heavy slap of feathers.

"What do you want us to do with this wreck?"

Prowl's limp form sprawled in the dirt at the Constructicon's feet, his consciousness drifting in and out on the tides of pain that rocked through him.

The tactician had managed to focus in during the painful journey to the Olympic National Forest long enough to see the green-black ocean beneath him as they flew from the spire of the tower towards the coastline. Water spread beneath the outlines of his toes, beckoning to him as flat, unyielding concrete tempted the bones of the despondent from the ledge of a high-rise.

It would be possible to deny Megatron his fun, he decided; its only requirement was a sharp, unexpected twist, the splinters of his broken door strut used as a weapon of desperation, stabbing into a widening lens-iris of shock and surprise.

Icy cold, the Pacific Ocean below would swallow his shattered body as it had greedily sucked down thousands of other mechanical wrecks. There wouldn't be enough left of him to spike on any of their towers, and even though he couldn't manage even the faintest of smiles without pain he'd found himself with a thick chuckle seeping up through the back of his throat. His captors were completely unaware of his amusement - the wind snatched up that small noise and spread it out into the dark sky.

Prowl had shunted all his remaining power into his arm. His fingers had twitched, then closed into a weak fist. Slowly, he'd registered that palm was damp, and at first he'd thought it was from condensation. No. With a grim sort of understanding, he'd realized it was his own dripping fuel; each flex of servo and gear sent more of it spilling down his forearm and fingers.

Automatically, the tactician had found himself calculating out his final odds of survival one final time, because that was familiar and somehow reassuring, even if the answer he received was probably not going to be. Ah, yes, down to four percent now, it incrementally fell with each mile that brought him towards the shore...

His hand opened, the damaged strut had trembled as he prepared himself. _Zero when I take this course of action... and... _

_Four point five? _

Then the figures in his head had jumped, leapt upwards joyously formed from numbers and situations. _Nine percent? Sixteen? _

The curve of the rocky coastline had caused the ocean to froth as it curled back on itself. On the shoreline, hazy with fog and distance the lights of a late-traveling car on the coastal highway lit the way before a tired driver wound into the darkness and left only the red trail of his running lights behind him.

_Land. On land, the Autobots can reach me. They'll have a good chance of finding me before..._

The thought sunk the shattered strut gratefully back against his shoulder. Death itself didn't bother him; his logical nature faced it with inevitability: a shot in the midst of a pitched fight, a bad dodge, completely random accident or even a systemic failure. It happened anywhere, any time. However, to surrender himself to a situation that could only result in one option seemed rather pointless. Not to mention a bit self-centered.

"Secure him to the dam! Must I do everything myself around here?"

There was a long pause. Prowl hazily wondered if his audios had finally shorted out for the last time.

"Depends. If we need someone to grovel, we'll call you," Scrapper muttered to Hook, low enough that Starscream couldn't hear him as he knelt and slung Prowl's limp arm across his shoulders, dragging the Autobot up and supporting the mech's full weight as he surveyed the wall of the dam. A long sigh whistled out of the corners of his mouth. _Ugh, what shoddy construction. This thing is truly an ugly testament to the architectural skills of humanity. _"I think we're perfectly capable of chaining him up there, Starscream."

Hook's dry cough of amusement clicked out through his vocalizer before he lifted his chin and offered Starscream a rather short salute. "Yes, we are perfectly capable. That's assuming that the dam face doesn't crumble under the fact that there's an Autobot's corpse on it."

"It won't have to hold it for long," Starscream corrected him, eyeing the slab behind him.

"It can't, in all honesty," was Scrapper's terse reply. "Give it an hour and anything we drive into that structure is coming loose and falling down."

"Then don't drive it in, you idiots. Why not magnetically clamp him up there?"

This time, Scrapper didn't bother to sweep back his sarcasm back into the corner his thoughts. "Because he's not dead yet," he snapped, poking at Prowl's wet flank with the very tip of his toe. "You want him breaking loose right when Megatron's swinging that energy mace of his at his head and you're standing right next to him?"

"This is very true," Hook agreed, tilting his head thoughtfully to eye the expanse of steel, rust, and slopped in tons of concrete. "He might even accidentally strike off your head, Starscream."

Whirling on his heel so fast that mud squelched up and spattered the trailing edge of his wing, Starscream snarled down at the smaller green and purple mechanisms and threw up his hands. "Whatever, just get him up there and make sure he's held tight. No accidents, period. Megatron should be arriving soon, and I want that Autobot up there and in place so we get this done as quickly as possible. I don't want to spend all this day eying that useless wreck. I have more important things to do."

With that, the haughty mech brushed off the dirt from his hands before he lifted into the air and hopped back up the rocky embankment. The flare of blue from his heels wilted a tired pine into ashes.

"He's got important things to do? Goodness, that sounds downright impressive. Or it would, if it wasn't coming from his particular vocalizer emulations," Hook said once the mech was merely a smudge of grey next to the spillway on the top of the dam.

Scavenger nodded, adding in a grunt in agreement as he slung Prowl's right arm over his shoulders and hoisted him up onto his feet. The Autobot's systems overcompensated and he was catapulted back to unconsciousness at the sudden motion; fluorescent green coolant burbled back out throat and slimed out over his mouth-plates. It marked the tactician's drag trail in a cheerfully deceptive weave of bright color while the Constructicons hauled him towards the broad beams of Glines.

"He probably needs the time to count all the ways he leads the glorious Decepticon army when he's shut down, that's all."

"Only time he's ever going to do it."

"Truly. If a day falls when he actually holds leadership, insufferable wretch that he is, I might not think twice about joining the Autobots."

"I see the logic there. Under those circumstances, it would be tempting," Scrapper agreed. _You know, now that I think about that, such a shift in power would cause the Autobots to gather quite a few new recruits. Oh, not for those ridiculous reasons of their sappy ideals and outdated morals. No, simply because many of us would be pleased to be given the freedom and opportunity to stomp Starscream flat._ "Best not to dwell on it. Help me get him up on the dam and into place," he waved, punctuating each word with his free hand. "I may not care one bit what that pompous plane thinks, but I do care about making quick work of Megatron's orders."

* * *

"Come here."

Blue fingers crooked to emphasize the words with casual expectance; the sound of the water muted his voice. A swish of his wing-flaps revealed the mech's immediate irritation when the object of his order didn't seem to have noticed his command. Instead, the courier shifted her weight over the edge of her toes and ended up standing with her back to him, optics tracking the slow progress of the river as it moved towards the forest.

A long-suffering sigh was followed by an indignant lick of yellow flame from the jet-mech's heels. Starscream kicked off the wet ground once again and scythed the foggy air aside as he flew upwards, hung in mid air, and then dropped down directly behind her, punctuating his arrival with the hiss of his foot-thrusters. Steam roiled off of the moisture slick stones.

"Didn't you hear me?" he groused.

Dart pivoted on her heel in obvious surprise, and blue-slanted optics shuttered down in a blink. She'd been focused on the fog lifting off the trees and the mountains, and her mind had been on how the Douglas firs offered the illusion that they were so tightly packed that they created a wall of bark and needles, but really, they weren't. It was open growth, the canopy filtering the light down so that not much underbrush managed to survive, and the more she ran through it, the more she gained confidence at her ability to avoid crashing into unmovable objects at high speeds. Tunnel vision, the world slowed down and became all reflex and action, turn and dodge without even realizing why until half a stride later.

"No, I- I didn't," she apologized as she shifted herself around the rest of the way and faced him, ankles crossing over each other in a light clatter of sound. Salt stains from the ocean had dried in pale white whorls across the dark plating of her chest, and a translucent chunk of green kelp was plastered over the curve of her shoulder, sticking to her metal, dry edges peeling up and crackling apart. "I'm sorry, did you say something? Er, did I miss a comm?"

"Twice," he informed her dryly, as he crossed his arms and tapped his fingers against his elbow. "Megatron is on his way." He stepped closer to the edge of the embankment, then frowned and shaded the flat of his hand across his brow, optics brightening in the dark overhang of shadow. "Did you run that perimeter I told you to run?"

"Yes." The courier backed up her affirmation with a bob of her head.

"Nothing, then?"

"No one that I could see..." she assured him, and then followed that with the afterthought of, "or smell, either."

This seemed to placate the mech. "Good. Let's go, then. Follow me."

A kick and he threw himself off the wet stone, becoming airborne. Dart turned, her foot slipping of the edge of the wet boulders as she started down after him.

She jumped back as a surge of blue filled her optics and blocked out the path in front of her.

Thundercracker landed, his left leg outstretched as he landed heavily on his foot, wings sweeping forward past his hips as he used a push of the air itself to help bring him to a halt. Seeing Dart, he offered up a quick grin before he wandered past her towards the vantage point he'd been heading to. "Hey there. See you found your way out after all last night. How was the swim?"

The courier's spoiler flicked up and over her shoulders as she pondered the question for a moment. It certainly hadn't been as easy as it had been the time before. Pitch dark, coupled with the icy water, Dart had gotten swamped and broadsided by a wave that had casually tossed the big chunk of metal she now was her head over heels. She'd gone down, the water cold and heavy. It had closed over her head and sealed her off from any contact with the air. Ocean had rushed into her mouth when she yelped in surprise, coating the inside of her throat with brine as it slid deep into her internals.

It had taken her a frantic moment of thrashing and paddling before she finally righted herself and lunged out of the water, spewing and snorting a salty froth of bubbles from her intakes. At first, she'd been shaken and more than a bit frightened, but then she'd thought about the situation and laughed at herself, dog-paddling in the vastness of the dark water. Right, robots couldn't drown, how stupid of her. Hey, she'd seen that movie where they dropped the robot in the trench and it walked along the sea bottom to terrorize Tokyo four hours later.

When she surfaced the second time from an another impromptu dunking, readouts in the corner of her optic flashed desperately. Quickly getting to shore had become her top priority; the feel of rocky beach and the sharp-edged crunch of barnacles under her feet had been more than welcome. _Have to remember to ask Starscream about if we can actually drown, especially before the weather gets worse. I get the feeling oceans on Cybertron are few and far between, and many of them dislike the rain... Huh. Are there even oceans on that planet..?_

"So...?" he prompted again.

Looking thoughtful, Dart crooked her finger and itched away a opaque smear of dried salt off her forearm.

"Wet," she replied finally.

"It's the ocean. Not surprising."

"It was still better than that room with the standing water in it."

The courier's grey nose managed to wrinkle in distaste, or maybe it was the slight curl of her upper lip giving out the illusion of a twitch.

"Also not surprising," he agreed. "How high is it now, anyway?"

"What?"

"The water down there."

"Um, about up to here, I guess," she said as she brought the flat of her palm to indicate right below the edge of her hip carriers.

A whistle of astonishment pursed out of his lips, a reedy, mechanical sound. It flickered up her relays into her audios and she tossed her head to relieve herself of the echo. "That high? Okay, they need to get someone down there to pump it clean and repair that leak, otherwise we're all going to all wake up in mid-swim one of these days, eh? Well, hopefully the Constructicons can think up a way to fix it, and... well, hey, speaking of them, they're finally done down there. Hooray. Maybe we'll get to head back home early after all."

"What's done?"

Thundercracker inclined his head, indicating the vague direction of the dam.

"That."

Dart's nose swung into line with his gesture, and she sucked a deep rush of air down into her olfactory sensors before she caught herself and looked down. A snort of surprise rattled back out of her and she clattered a step backwards, lichen squelching and flinging a spatter of black goo out from underneath her foot.

Two robots pinned a third mech back to the wet wall of Glines. Their plating seemed to glow like dime store plastic, a lurid, artificial green against the grey stone and backdrop of forest. One held the tactician's arm up over the unconscious mech's head, his violet hand wrapped around the Autobot's wrist, encircling the limb with a livid bruise of color. The other surveyed the dam and shook his head slowly before leaning forward to touch a small ion torch to the concrete. A flurry of sparks shot into the air, tumbling over each other in a snapping crackle of blue, and then the Constructions stepped back and revealed the body of the white and black mech spread-eagled, stretched, and stapled across the deep curve of the dam. Prowl's body sagged forward as they withdrew their support; the weight of his own chest tilted him forward until the metal clamp of the newly driven bonds chewed viciously against his plating. His head lolled against his chest; rivulets of rust ran down the dam face, slithering and twining around him. Red stains licked at the undamaged areas of Prowl's plating, left smears of bloody-spume colored slime before they continued down, crawling drip over drip, the trails of murky red vanishing into the slow moving pool of water beneath him.

Dart's hand came up to her mouth in an attempt to hide her yelp of surprise. She chewed it back into her throat and swallowed it down before it escaped her; the sound felt like it bounced around the hollows of her metal chest before it settled under her fuel pump and faded away.

"Is... is he dead?"

Even last night, mulling over several scenarios in her mind while jogging through the damp and the dark... She hadn't come up with this situation that literally hung before her now. No, all of her thoughts had ended with Megatron making Prime squirm for a bit and then trading Prowl back to them for Reflector. It was reasonable, right? It made sense, seeing how Megatron wouldn't pass up the opportunity to make the Autobots grovel a bit before he handed back his prisoner. If they had meant to kill him, she truly thought they would have killed him outright. It just seemed more logical than dragging him across the miles to this place and then lopping off his head...

"Nah, he's still alive."

"Wrong."

Thundercracker turned his head to look at the girl. She was staring down at the side of the dam. Her shoulders were forward and tense, the line of her spoiler had flattened, the piece of black metal tamped across her back in a lopsided confusion of steel.

"No, I'm not wrong. He's still alive. See, there? His hand's moving." A faint chuckle. "Well, I think he's still alive, his reflex centers would have quit minor motor motions long ago if he wasn't."

Dart shook her head. "No, I mean, that's -" she said, lifting her hand to indicate the dam and its stapled down burden, "wrong. Him."

The jet mech hesitated, and glanced again down to where she pointed at the Autobot pinned to the dam. All things considered, it was amazing that the Autobot was still alive, considering the amount of bad handling and lack of medical repairs that Prowl had been given. Tough mech, he decided. Too bad for him, really. Bringing his hand slowly up, he rubbed the point of his chin before sliding his gaze towards Dart with wry expectation.

"Yeah. You know, you're right. Steel cable manacles might have been better. Hey, I guess that makes me a traditionalist."

With a twitch to the left, the piece of metal across the girl's shoulders again managed to convey her expression before Thundercracker even picked up on her uncomfortable frown. "That wasn't what I meant."

"Oh? So you have a better idea?"

"No, no," she replied. "I- I guess they didn't do it to us, that's what's bothering me."

"What?"

"Back in their base. "

Red optics regarded her with what might have actually been a touch of apprehension. "The Autobots? Nah. They don't do things the same way we do."

Slowly, the courier scuffed at the ground with her heel. Her hands groped at the air in front of her as if she was trying to find purchase, to pin down what she was trying to say. Then they shifted to her hips, thumb clicking nervously against the metal of her panniers before she finally let them drift behind her and lace at the small of her back. "I guess not. Maybe... maybe someone should say something..."

Thundercracker's snort brittled the fog-damp air between them. "Uh huh. Now, I know you're not suggesting me for that someone, because that just isn't happening. So, you gonna trot down there and say, 'gee, Megatron, let's find a kinder and gentler way to deal with the Autobots?' Okay, I know you're not quite up to date on everything, seeing as Screamer dragged you out of storage, but for crying out loud, we don't live in a democratic society here. If Megs decides he wants that guy stapled to some dam in the middle of some tree-happy joint and make a show, you know what we do? We don't argue, because he's probably got a good reason why he's doing it. We stand there and hold the line. It's our job - understand?"

The black curve of Dart's narrow shoulders lowered, and the girl tucked her chin back into her throat guard as she turned her optics to regard the dirt between her feet. "Right. I sort of thought mine was to run messages."

Eyeing her askance, Thundercracker sniggered. "Funny, funny girl. Anyone else here said something like that, I'd think they were being sarcastic."

"I am, sort of."

"And you're doing a whiz-bang job, let me tell you. Actually, you need work. A few more millennia, you'll have it down pat though, don't worry about it. Now, it is hard for poor me to be helpful when you're so stubborn, though. What, is that some sort of girl thing?"

"Being stubborn?"

"Yeah."

"No... I think it's just common sense creeping through."

"Well, that's a rare thing around here, better not let anyone know you still have it, ha ha. Look. Your skills get used, sure, all right - but your job in the end is what they need you to do and tell you to do. Run a message, push a mop around, go dig out some ruby crystals in Burma, whatever. We're grunts, we're not the ones who make the decisions or lead dramatic charges. Well, maybe the second one, but that's because someone's using us as a moving shield. I don't mind that at all, because it makes life easier that way."

"It would be easier, but it's not better," Dart said slowly. Her nose turned back to align with Prowl before she once again turned her head away and looked down at the slick rocks beneath her.

Thundercracker's expression turned briefly thoughtful, as if he needed a second to sort her words out and determine if he agreed with her. Finally, he merely shrugged. The laser rifle on his arm rattled softly. "In the end, it doesn't matter if you think it's wrong. The quicker you figure this out, the easier and better it's going to get for you. How can I make this any simpler?"

"I don't know."

"Me neither, and it's driving me nuts. Okay. One more try. It doesn't matter who or what thinks anything's wrong or why. All that matters is if Megatron thinks it's wrong, right? Guess what? Even you know the answer to that, don't you?"

Dart hesitated. He had a point. Actually, no the point was that Megatron had a big fusion cannon strapped to his arm and a volatile temper. Vaporization one, courier none. Hey, look, she did know the answer after all. Well, it probably wasn't the answer Thundercracker was expecting or attempting to point out to her, but it was an answer.

"Well, maybe someone could suggest to him that he could get more out of it by not killing him, right?"

"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"

"No no, I did."

"Okay. Then you're not listening to me," he said, kicking back his foot and accentuating his gripe with a flare of heel-jet.

"That's what you said back at the Ark."

"No... I said, 'why doesn't anyone ever listen to me?' Ha. You've proved my point."

"Actually, I am listening. I am. I know, I know... but it makes sense, think about it. I know Megatron might take someone else's suggestion and claim it as his own if someone were to point out that he could get a better payoff by doing something else with him."

"Okay, nice fantasy Starscream moment, right there. Bzzt. Megatron doesn't take suggestions. But, he is the type to staple someone to a dam for a public execution. You know what I'd do if I were you?"

Dart shook her head. "No. I guess I don't."

"Easy," Thundercracker scoffed. "I'd keep my mouth shut and let it go. It's not our part of the business. They know what they're doing. Look, if it makes you feel better, I'm as surprised as you are over this. Autobots don't let themselves get caught very often." He laughed, but it was strained, and the sound fell somewhere on the damp ground between them. "But don't go worrying that they're going to flip out and hunt us all down for it. Trust me, this one incident on a remote speck of a planet in the middle of absolute nowhere won't be the final thing that makes them all snap and go off the deep end. That guy isn't the first Autobot to be caught and executed in this war, and believe me, it won't be the last, ha. Besides, Prime will just bust out the old, 'fighting for vengeance alone we become no better then them,' spiel."

"But he didn't kill us."

"Prowly? So what? Doesn't mean I owe him - what's the human term for it? Jack off?"

"What?! Oh, er, no. I'm pretty sure you mean jack squat."

"Off, squat, same thing for humans."

"Hey now," she warned, holding up one hand with a slight laugh. "Trust me on this one when I say I'm positive that's not the case, but-"

A flurry of grey and red slammed itself into the ground, and Starscream's snarl washed over them both. Immediately, Dart forgot where the conversation was headed and jumped a step back, realizing she'd forgotten to follow after the mech. Immediately, she swung towards him and did a little half hop in the air, coming to click-heel attention and ducking her chin against her throat guard in abashed apology. _Whoops. Teaches me to get into that sort of discussion and forget where I was supposed to be going. I hope Megatron's not down there already. _"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry... I'm coming, I just was sort of sidetracked for a second."

"Sidetracked? How interesting," Starscream sneered, curling his lip. Moisture on the rocks beneath his heels corkscrewed away into short, angry bursts of white vapor right before his attention riveted on Thundercracker. "What are you doing up here anyway?"

The blue mech shrugged, casually spreading his hands. "Me? Nothing. Killing time before the big show."

"Go kill it somewhere else. Now."

With a smile laden with a millennium of practiced patience, Thundercracker sketched a small salute into the air. "Well, yessir, Air Commander, sir." A kick of his foot lifted him into the air and then he headed toward the gathered Decepticons below.

As soon as Thundercracker had dipped out of earshot, Starscream rounded on Dart. "What were you two talking about? I heard humans mentioned," he said, spitting out this claim as if the word itself was foul.

A rattle of spoiler lifted and lowered as Dart finally shrugged and pointed down towards the dam. "That. Him."

Starscream's red-optic squint was followed by an expression of open-mouthed dread. Dart took a step away from him and threw a wary gaze behind her. Nothing there after all, whew. She'd half expected to see Megatron standing behind her holding one of the scraggly pines that lined the road edges, slapping it slowly into his huge black palm like a mafia boss wielding a handy baseball bat. Not finding that was a relief, of course, but the mech's gape made her more nervous.

"Is he dead?!" he finally managed to sputter. "I told them to clamp off that line, I said he was - well, it's their fault, not mine, those idiotic green wretches."

"No no, he's not..."

The mech stared back down, and then threw up his hands. "Well, obviously not. You need to observe more carefully next time before I jump to conclusions. Now, what were you talking about to Thundercracker?"

The courier hesitated, and then scratched the back of her calf with her foot as if she'd suddenly discovered a plaguing itch instead of working a way to buy herself a moment to think about how she was going to explain anything to him without him leaping on his merry way to a conclusion. Finally, she decided on restrained honesty.

"The fact that they're going to kill him, when they didn't kill us when they had the chance."

Starscream gave a derisive snort. "Yes. Pathetic, isn't it?"

Slanted blue optics shuttered in a confused blink, and then she nodded, hesitant but hopeful that he understood what she was having such a hard time with in this situation. "It is," she said, glancing back at him.

"It works out for our side, of course, but their unwillingness to take advantage of an opportunity to tip the odds in their favor is truly their undoing."

Dart's mouth decided to slip away from the beginnings of her smile and forced itself into a tight line. "That's not what I meant," she said suddenly, her weight shifting awkwardly over her hip. Her foot drew up, settled back, then drew up again; her toe scraped across the ground in a pawing motion, betraying silent frustration.

"Well, what did you mean?"

"I meant.. I guess I mean I don't think that he deserves to be stapled to a wall of a dam and then beheaded. You know, he had every opportunity -"

Wings bristled and he chopped down his hand in air between them, fingers tight and rigid as if they were the blade of an axe. "Every opportunity?" he wondered. "The Autobots know better than to kill one of us; they've learned their lesson."

"What's the lesson?"

A less arrogant mech might have heard that slight edge to Dart's tone that betrayed something besides confusion. Starscream completely missed it.

"That we retaliate a hundred-fold."

Dart's spoiler flattened back, the tips pointed backwards as it rotated creakily on the ball joints.

"So wait... let me see if I have this straight," she said carefully, as if allowing him every opportunity to correct her. "We retaliate if they kill someone, but er, if that someone gets caught and stuffed in a cell, sorry, they're on their own?"

"Yes."

"Gee, and you accuse us humans of being stupid. That's just-"

All of Starscream's attention was riveted on Dart now. Uncoiling, he lunged forward and slammed his hands down on the curve of her shoulders. Fingers dug into the gaps of her plating as he twisted her around to glare directly into her optics. The courier reared back, shocked into sideways, skittering motion. The mech locked his elbows, leaned his weight into his forearms and clamped down harder. Effectively, he pinned her to the ground, stilling her dancing sidestep into a flatfooted quiver of lanky metal.

"Foolish thing," he hissed, the words forcing their way out from between his clenched lips. Angled wings swept back, bristling with flap. "I don't- I mean, don't be foolish. You need to learn to keep such sentiments to yourself or you're as good as dead."

Red optics locked on blue.

A low, burbling gurgle crept out of her throat.

It slowly dawned on Starscream that Dart was not making a noise of trepidation or apology. It was however, the beginnings of a low, almost confused growl, and it was aimed at him. As soon as he realized it, the jet-mech instinctively released her, his hands moving with a shadow of a push. The courier stumbled back a step, her long legs crossing over at the knee like scissors. She grabbed at the air, fumbling at nothing as if she was groping for an invisible rail in an ice-rink until she regained her balance.

"Be silent," he warned. "Or you'll be trussed up right there with that Autobot if you're not careful, do you understand me?"

Ruefully, Dart brought up her hand and rubbed her shoulder, the ball of her thumb pressing heavily into the dip of metal. "Well, it's the truth, and the only person I was saying it to was to you, no one else. I hope to someone you're not going to kill me for it. So, I'll say it again, I don't think what they're doing to him is fair."

"What? Oh, the Autobot? Wait, you think that I snapped at you about – no, no, this has nothing to do with that at all. I think the entire thing with the Autobot is rather idiotic myself, when it comes down to it. As for me killing you, of course not, that's ridiculous," Starscream replied, regaining his composure and slowly crossing his arms. He let his wings fall carefully, slowly, body language allowing her to pick up on his apparent flash of remorse before he straightened up and let his hands fall to his sides. A soft whistle flickered out of the corner of his mouth; at the sound, the girl straightened a bit as if she was pricking invisible ears towards him. Her weight shifted over her hip, toe pointed, and she slowly relaxed and eased out a long stream of air out of her intakes, her flanks quivering into stillness. Beads of moisture condensed on the edges of her helmet and dripped down to pool in her throat guard.

The sound of the water splashing over the narrow sluice and being sucked eagerly into the depths below was the only sound between them until Starscream rattled his wings with a sigh and rubbed his hand across his dark, fox-sharp chin. A white flash gleamed between his lips as he chuckled softly.

"You need to watch yourself better when you're upset, you know. Did you even realize what you said?"

"Yeah, I said... I said I thought it was wrong."

"No. Before that."

"We retaliate if they kill someone..." she ventured, grey brow scrunching under the strain of her thoughts.

"No. After that."

The courier brought up her hand to her head, and rubbed fitfully behind her audio sensor. "Accusing us of being stupid?"

"Yes. Specifically, us accusing 'you humans' as being stupid."

Dart cocked her head, looking quizzical. Then, the courier's mouth parted around a silent 'oh' of recognition. "Crud. I'm sorry, it just slipped out, I swear, I didn't even realize I said that until you pointed it out."

"I know," he said. "Now you see why I was so upset, don't you? Think about what could have happened if you'd done that in front of Megatron or Soundwave... What do we Decepticons care about what humans say? We don't. It's as simple as that. Keep things to yourself, or we'll end up trussed right next to that Autobot if you're not careful. It's not the way I want to die. Ah. Come on, Megatron's arriving. Things will be picking up quickly now."

One last hesitant glance passed over Dart's shoulder before she frowned again and slowly began to pick her way over the slick boulders and rust-spored ferns, heading down towards the bottom of Glines.

* * *

"Yes, sir."

Dart's hand tapped lightly against the brim of her helmet in flat-palmed salute to the grey bulk of the mech looming over her. The shadows down here at the bottom of Glines made the area hold the chill. Wet lines of spray swirled up and found themselves drawn to the tons of living metal, water slowly beaded and ran down the well-waxed mechanisms. Stone crunched underneath the weight of the aliens, smooth river rock worn down by time and element into something that was perfectly shaped to fit in a child's hand and send skipping across a placid lake.

Starscream's optics narrowed. "There's no point in that," he snidely informed Megatron, shoving himself between the Decepticon leader and the girl. His wingtip clipped Dart's pannier, and the girl dug both heels into the rocky shore and braced herself so she didn't get knocked aside. Instead, it dragged along the edge of her hip and left a deep gouge in her black paint. Backing up quickly the rest of the way to get out Starscream's way, a snort of air escaped the courier's intakes and fell into the lull of conversation; it echoed as if it were the obstinate grunt of a mustang that had no intent of being shoved into a dark trailer without the help of ropes, four strong men and a cheerleading squad. Someone laughed. Someone else mimicked her noise perfectly. _Snort. _

Dart passed around an embarrassed grin to the tightly clustered group of Decepticons, slunk back and flattened her spoiler down across her shoulders as if she could disappear underneath the black slat of metal. Her finger picked at the deep gouge in her hip-carrier as she made an attempt to smooth down the sharp burr. At the way things were going between branches, barnacles, and random sharp bits of her fellow Decepticons, she was obtaining a nice collection of scratches. Thinking about it, hey, all those tattered auto magazines she'd read while waiting at the dentist had been right. Black was apparently the hardest paint to keep looking decent for any period of time. _Guess it's even worse when you're literally running off-road. _

"Make the Stunticons do it," Starscream continued, ignoring Dart and gesturing to the group of mechs leaning against the chain-link fence that surrounded a few of the squat, bunker-style buildings that crouched by the base of the falls. They glared back at him, waiting until he turned back to face Megatron before two of them aimed a rude gesture at the broad panels of his wings. The third didn't bother. It was too much work.

"We seem to be having this conversation far too much lately for my liking. Why do you keep thinking you are the one to make any decisions in how I deploy?" Megatron observed darkly.

Next to Soundwave's knee, Ravage stretched himself over his forelegs and seemed to yawn; gleaming fangs charted the darkness of his jaws. Rumble's gaze flicked to his fellow cassette and then back to the dam, red optic band bright with the anticipation of watching Prowl's head depart his body in one swift strike of Megatron's energy mace. It was too bad a third of Reflector was still stuck in the Autobot's base; well, hopefully someone would record it. Nothing better than watching something like that frame by frame from every possible angle over and over again.

"Wish they'd hurry up," he leaned over and muttered to an equally impatient Frenzy. "What's taking so long?"

Frenzy jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Probably Starscream."

"Oh man. Geeze, what else is new. Shut up and chop up Prowl already, we've been waiting here forever. Only so much dam water I can look at today."

"Dam water, heh. Maybe they'll let us kick around his head for a while."

"Autobot basketball."

"Nah, that's soccer."

"Whatever."

Nasal and sharp, Starscream's voice grated over the sluggish splash of the water. "I merely offered suggestion."

Already in a foul mood at being forced to wait on circumstances he could not control, Megatron stepped forward, coming into striking distance of Starscream, black fist clenched in a malevolent knot. Immediately, the jet mech backed up a step, hand fluttering between his chest and his chin as if he wasn't sure how much time he'd have to block an incoming punch and was frantically trying to discern the most vital area.

This time, there was a general consensus from the Decepticons who were bored half out of their mind from waiting. The final outcome - with a flurry of murmured bets placed - was that Starscream was likely next in line for the view on the curve of Glines. Swindle happily took in more than a few promised energon cubes. Easy winnings on his part, really... he almost felt bad taking it from the poor saps.

"Then I merely ignore it." Megatron said coldly.

Ah, almost. That was a nice word. Swindle tallied up his take in his head. _Not bad, not bad._

"Blow his head off," Wildrider suggested from the sidelines with more wistful hope than actual belief that it would happen.

"Ignore that too, then!" Starscream shrilled. As the Air-Commander's chest thrust out in readiness to propel his next babble of diatribe, Ravage's ears flicked forward. His nose lifted into the air, he clicked his jaws shut and shook himself onto his feet, the long shadows around him bending before they sprang back and coiled into the body of the cat. Dart glanced at over at the robotic jaguar, her attention caught by his flourish of motion. One slant-yellow optic focused on her in return, then shuttered into a brief, private wink. She shuffled her feet, cocked her head; first unsure if she'd seen it. Realizing that she had, she then became uncertain as to exactly what it meant.

"I fail to understand your reluctance, Starscream," the cat admitted, quiet voice twining around in the pause cast by the looming mechanisms; it mimicked without motion the brush of a sleek flank against the towers of legs. "You designed the courier's schematics with this particular terrain in mind, yes?"

Starscream immediately rounded and glared down at the cat. His first thought was that he was somehow being made fun of; his second was to eye the black animal intently, frowning as he tried to figure out what Ravage was getting at. Ravage wasn't one for casual conversation at any time - the fact that he was asking this question during this particular argument had significance, but what it was, Starscream couldn't put his finger on. Struggling with his ego wanting to pop up and take full credit for Dart's adaptations to the area they were now forced to slog through warred with a nagging suspicion that the cat was somehow toying with him with words instead of claws. His mind groped and fumbled for what answer to offer.

Maddingly, the black beast only focused a calm, serene gaze back on the glowering optics that regarded him with red suspicion. The jet-mech wondered how far a well placed foot to Ravage's rear end would send him flying, entertained a brief mental picture of the robotic jaguar flailing off into the distance, yowling... then cut that right short. You never knew what Soundwave would do, and who knew when a random thought would catch his attention. Plus, Ravage wasn't someone he wanted to make an enemy of; yes, rumors and facts had been interchangeable throughout the war, but there was one that had always stuck in his head.

Late in the war, two small cities that had banded together to firmly oppose Megatron's attempts at occupation. They held their position and the line. Both were neutral trade ports that wanted no part in the conflict; they were content to supply both sides and let the two factions fight it out as long as they didn't destroy their backyard.

One morning they were there, doing their day to day business of shipping and repair work on shuttle craft. The next, only the faint shadows of the citizens remained; painted in slashes of ash and oily smoke onto ruined, twisted buildings. Perhaps it had been what was reported; a dangerous back-surge that had overloaded central power cores simultaneously -feeding off the powerloop, they'd flash-pointed and killed the population in an instant...

Silvery-pewter, the newly restored missiles on either side of Ravage's flanks twitched upward.

"Yes," Starscream admitted grudgingly.

"I see. Then you're merely arguing for argument's sake once again; the girl is simply the interchangeable topic this time?"

Starscream's mouth twisted back and forth, grinding out his anger at being backed so neatly into a corner. Megatron eyed Ravage, then Soundwave, crossed his arms and chuckled. The inky mech dipped his head slightly to his leader, gaping his jaws in a silent smile as his shoulder curled around and helped him settle down on to his haunches at Soundwave's feet. One final twitch of a pointed ear and another sidelong wink abruptly revealed to the intently listening courier an opening as wide as a barn door as his last word trailed off with the purr-creak of a carefully oiled hinge.

Even though she could admit to herself there were a lot of times that she was more than a bit slow on the uptake, Dart understood that she was the obvious recipient of this particular set-up. A smile of utter relief directed towards Ravage was quick; she tried to hide her expression as nicely as the cat had. _Hey, who would have guessed that panthers have a poker face... not me. Remind me never to play cards with him. _

"Go," Megatron ordered, before simply turning his back on her and Starscream both and eyeing Prowl instead. His hands fell to his hips as he shook his head. "If your contact doesn't arrive soon, Swindle, I suppose we'll just have to leave the parts strewn around for him to report back on. He still will compensate us for our trouble, yes?"

"Oh, he will, he will," Swindle replied quickly, bobbing his head up from where he was calculating his final take on his fingers. "Always does. My kind of human."

"Yes sir, Megatron sir, on my way," Dart stuttered, saluting her eager compliance before Starscream could recover from Ravage's logic to cough up another random argument. Realizing he'd been effectively told he could stuff his words up his afterburners, Starscream attempted to pin the courier still by spearing her with an angry glare. She dodged it beautifully and scooted past him to weave and duck through the assembled throng, only peering back once to the furious mech to offer him merely a baffled glance - _what? - _followed by a confused shrug.

Once she'd dashed past, Dart admitted to herself that she hoped she could feign the expression well enough. She didn't feel like being around Starscream right now, especially when he was in the high-strung, contrary, argumentative mood that lashed out at anyone who happened to be in his path. Actually, she could guess now that the reason he'd been so confrontational up on the hill was the fact that the television reporter was hours late; apparently, his van had been caught between accidents down on the interstate, and he'd placed two frantic calls from a rest-stop pay phone apologizing for his situation.

In typical Starscream fashion, Megatron's second had refused flat out to go and get the man. According to what she'd overheard, he'd been citing with great fervor the fact that the pride of the Cybertron War Academy was not a taxi service.

_Chalk that up to one more thing the War Academy doesn't train you for, I guess. No wonder he was completely snappy earlier, he probably doesn't want to consider doing anything that reminds him of what happened the last time he gave a human a ride. _

So, if Megatron was ordering her to go zip off somewhere else and she got to run and ignore Starscream for a while, she was all for it. Running helped her settle herself. Actually, it was sort of a triple excuse; she wouldn't have to glance over and...

The black ridge of her spoiler flattened down, the strip of metal conveying silent culpability.

All it had taken was Megatron to crush the moss and stone with the thud of his landing, water squelching up from the edges of his massive feet. One look at his face had added enough to stuff any ideas Dart had about coming forward and bringing up the idea of Prowl's release into a safer location.

_At least the reporter not being on time might mean he might... _

It was a thought she'd been avoiding, but it lurked at the threshold of realization before it happily snuck forward with an ingratiating smile to display itself in full glory. It dragged memory with it, a snippet of childhood managing to pull itself out from the cloudy haze within her brain. A dog, barking and barking on its long chain, angrily clawing at the space between it and the group of children in a paroxysm of frustration. The group of kids throwing missiles at the poor dog had laughed at her when she'd told them to leave it alone. A few moments soon taught her that while riding a bike, she could not only wing a rock pretty hard in return, she could also pedal her little metallic blue Schwinn amazingly fast in an effort to get safely home.

_Ugh. Hello, Dart. How is it that you could stop some kids throwing rocks at a dog, but a guy hung and half beaten to death on a dam, you can't even summon the courage to stand up and say that it's wrong. _

Her mind tried to helpfully point out that the kids didn't have a fusion cannon.

_So what? _

Well, maybe this is all part of how things go...

_Yeah. It's part of it, all right. Keep trying to tell yourself that. Decepticon. De-cept-tion. Hey, look, you're fitting in perfectly. You're even doing a great job deceiving yourself, too. Nice. _

Dart winced, ducking her head to try and mask her expression. Two strides, and she was scrambling back up the hill cut down towards the base of Glines. Slim fingers wedged themselves in the cracks of the slippery wedges of boulder and moss, and she leapt her way upward, following the careful path she'd slid down earlier. It hadn't been the easiest way to get down to the base of the dam - in fact, she'd slid a good thirty feet on her skidplate, much to the amusement of the other Decepticons waiting below. Halfway up, she found welcome purchase on the boulders jutting out of the curve of the wall, and her feet heaved her body upward, striking sparks off half exposed chunks of basalt.

Scrabbling, kicking dirt and tufts of grass behind her, Dart crested the rim of the canyon and shook herself off, rattling her plating as she collected her bearings. One mountain was west of her right now, the other one to the north. Fine, then, she'd go east, start where she'd started from last time, she decided. In the corner of her optic, a small map appeared, overlaying her vision.

Immediately she brought up her hand to scrub frantically at her eye, wincing as if she'd gotten a piece of grit in it.

Red neon readouts popping up at the worst possible times offering helpful hints about system status and situation were annoying in themselves._ It's not like I know what it's telling me, anyway, what with the Cybertronian squiggle._ Well, at least this time, she hadn't been sprinting when the random warning blasted into her vision. Perhaps the glowing haze had been pointing out she was low on oil, or quite possibly that she would self-destruct in sixty seconds after reading said message. Okay, it hadn't been the latter, but the words had done an excellent job of obscuring a tree that had leapt out of the woods and planted itself in her path. Skidding fifty feet with her nose plowing the way was a private lesson in how well rooted an alder actually could be.

Sitting up afterwards, spitting out leaves, dirt, and a rather confused coastal snail, the courier had finally resorted to whacking the side of her head with her palm a few times to get rid of the afterimage hovering there in bright flashes of turquoise and orange. Thank goodness that the newest readout wasn't so hard to banish - the chart only struggled a second before it shut down, fading quickly away past the glowing dot that resembled an old television screen. Maybe she was getting better at finding mental switches.

Then again, maybe not, since the day-glow orange tuner bar of her in-dash radio was stuck on the local AM religious channel. No matter how much she managed to spin the knob back and forth, it stayed put. Sure, the world was apparently full of sinners - and oh boy, could she include herself in that - but, ugh. After twelve straight hours of being asked to repent she'd just about been ready to sprint down to wherever the broadcast originated herself and offer to do so right then and there if they'd stop. Knowing her luck though, they'd only give her a break by playing a full day's worth of the commercials starring Cal Worthington and his dog, Spot.

Oh well, maybe she could find a decent cassette tape to stick in there one of these days. Anything would be better than religious zeal twenty four seven. Yeah, even NPR.

Quickly, the courier shook her head, focused on the hazy grey forest as she tossed herself into a ground-eating lope. Right. Run the loop she'd run earlier - that seemed like the place to start. Fog thinned and parted as she approached the trees; the ground turned rough and uneven and she was forced to slow down to a jouncing, extended trot. Jogging in place up on her toes, the courier peered right, left, and then shook herself with a rattle of plating, spraying drops of moisture sideways before she bounded easily into the moss-draped caverns created by the arching boughs of Vine maples.

Her footfalls pressed into dull silence, cushioned by the loam.

* * *

The thin leather gloves he'd just bought - while stylishly off white - didn't keep out the cold, Ryan Crockett decided, blowing on his icy hands and rubbing them against each other. He finally gave in, stuffing one deep in the pocket of his wool slacks and pressing it against his thigh for warmth. Grudgingly, he admitted his brother was right after all, he should have purchased those new fancy Thinsulate doeskin ones that he'd pointed out at the ski shop last week. It looked like western Washington was headed for a hard winter after all.

Wedged between his shoulder and chin, the pay phone hissed and popped. Eyeing the sign less than four feet from him, he winced at the thought of just how many billions of nasty germs were on this particular receiver. Yes, it made sense that the payphone was sheltered as deep within the open sided building as possible. Would have been nice though if old Ma Bell had situated it on the other side of the wall from the restrooms. People didn't seem to take the time to wash their hands these days.

Part of the benefit of being on television was that folks recognized you. Sometimes you even got free things because of it; coffee, lunch, dry cleaning, all of which were nice perks for long hours on the job. The part of celebrity that he didn't appreciate at all was when complete strangers reached out their hands and expected him to shake a hello in a public restroom right after they'd zipped up. Right after. Even the slightest glance towards the sink or a happy pink soap dispenser would have been nice, but... it never seemed to happen.

Wishing that he'd kept one of those handy little alcohol wipes from his hurried breakfast, he conceded reluctantly that he had no choice but to press the black plastic tighter to his ear, sealing the road noise of the highway off as he strained to hear the voice on the other end. He'd tried messing with the metal-wrapped cord at the last stop, stretching it straight, looping it back on itself, but it seemed to be something inherent with the number he was contacting. Behind him, one of the sound crew asked in a stage whisper if he wanted them to grab him a hot cup of coffee. He nodded and shooed them off by waving his hand at them; immediately they scampered off, accompanied by the squeak of rubber heels on the wet aggregate concrete.

His breath collected in hazy wet whorls on his glasses and dripped down the sides of his nose, and he tried to tuck his chin deeper into the collar of his raincoat, breathing down his starched collar in an effort to warm himself. Well, at least if the Decepticons were suspicious about anything come later, his excuses would at least be legit - there were accidents up and down the Interstate Five corridor this morning. _Thank you, Pacific Northwest weather. _

He doubted the robots would even bother to go look up the fact that most of the crashes were only fender benders that weren't even jotted down by the State Patrol. Decepticon curiosity for human daily life was about the same as he reserved for scorpions; as long as they stayed far away, he didn't bother stepping on them. Two weeks in Arizona had given him a healthy respect for things with bloated sacks of poison attached to their tails. He still shook out his shoes in the morning.

Pressed tight against his head, the phone crackled again, bringing with it the soft lilt of a voice that always reminded Ryan of the postman he'd grown up with in New Orleans. It also recalled old fears of running in panic in from a looming cloud of choking volcanic ash, hoping to goodness he didn't get swallowed up in a lahar. You know, thinking about that situation again, and comparing it to the scorpions... nope, he still would rather be running from the force of St. Hilary any day.

"No, no. I can hear you. Can you hear me?"

The voice on the other end assured him it could, and apologized once again for the poor connection.

"It's okay. Have to make this quick, because I don't think I can stall much longer... but they finally confirmed it, you were right. Glines Canyon Dam."

Ryan winced again at hearing the next question. Slowly, he leaned his shoulder into the metal edge of the half-booth. The phone book hanging snug in its plastic binder down below turned in the wind and nudged against his upper thigh.

"I don't know, J. All I know is he's not dead yet. Yeah, I wish I did too. No no, I took your advice, yeah. Right, been calling in from different phones as I go. Hope it makes a difference. If it doesn't, well, Swindle knows where I work anyway. Probably knows where I live too. I need to get going, but I just wanted to touch bases with you... yeah, good luck to you, too."

His hand twinged in regret having to crawl out of the warmth of his pants pocket to hang up the phone. Gloved finger hovering over the plastic bar in the cradle, he finally pressed down. A click, and the line went silent. Ryan could once again hear the traffic rushing behind him on the interstate, ebbing and roaring. His ear peeled away from the damp phone and he turned, hung it up, wiped his glasses and headed for the van, accepting the cup of hot coffee that was pressed into his hand as he swung into the front seat. Blue vinyl squeaked under his wet trousers as he settled himself into the seat and reached one-handed for the seatbelt, snapping it into place. Coffee sloshed over the edge of the Styrofoam cup and flecked across the rubber floor mats.

"Everything okay?" his driver asked, revving the news van's engine.

"Hope so. Let's go."

* * *

The black jet's wings sliced the mist into tatters as he powered up the low valley.

Fuming, Skywarp skimmed across the treetops, watching the pines sway and bounce in the whack of wind from his passing. Frightened birds popped into the air and flung themselves out of his path, a crow barely avoided being sucked into his intake. Immediately, he rolled, bringing his wing perpendicular to the air, slashing viciously at the animal with the leading edge of metal. Cruelness made him eager; his entire concentration riveted on that one spot where he hoped to be witness to the bright fan of red spreading across his wing, accompanied by shredded feathers scattered through the sky. Luck today was partially with the bird; instead of being hit, it tumbled helplessly through the air, swept aside by the harsh smack of wind from of the mech's downdraft.

Whirling downward like a wet, tattered rag, the crow's clawed feet clenched on nothing as it fell rapidly towards the needled canopy. At the last possible second, it seemed to shake itself out of shock. Pinions grabbed at air, it righted itself and landed gracelessly on a limb, swaying drunkenly for a few seconds before it huddled against the rough bark and cawed out; a croaking, baleful sound. Under the right set of circumstances, even birds could swear.

Thundercracker's own oath of surprise broke through their private comm-channel with a high hiss, his voice crackling with static.

"_Whoa there, 'Warp! Watch it, you nearly hit me! What was that about?" _

"_Birds," _Skywarp grunted shortly.

"_Ugh. You intake any?" _Thundercracker replied, sidling away a bit through the air to put some space between him and the black jet. Plane modes and avians didn't mix. More often than not you didn't want to be that close to someone who'd just sucked down a wayward flock of starlings.

"_No." _

"_Well, that's good." _

"_What the heck are we doing up here anyway?" _Skywarp snapped as he rolled onto his back. His landing gear stabbed up at the sky in an unmistakably rude gesture._"There's no reason for us to be here. If I miss that Autobot getting his head removed..." _

Thundercracker's pause shuffled aside and released his sigh.

"_It's one sweep around, that's all. There's nothing out here for miles. We won't miss anything if we split up and each cut the circuit. You go left, I'll go right, and we're looped and done, see? We'll just meet back up over the top of the dam. Megatron didn't order that we had to fly this tandem - it'll be faster if we do it like that." _

Skywarp flipped back over and did a banking curve away from the blue jet. His shadow passed over the outline of a small bridge below, the drab green metal skeleton of the structure bare as an old dry rib cage picked over by scavengers. _"Whatever."_

Thundercracker's flaps curled downwards, diverting the rush of air and slowing him down as he swept down to run side by side again with the other plane. The two vehicles jostled for the lead, pointed noses jabbing through the air before the blue jet dropped back a bit and slid into the comfortable slip-stream cut by the black. Settling where he allowed the other mech to do the hard work of shoving through the air, Thundercracker's voice finally wandered back through the open channel frequency between the two Cybertronians. _"Don't worry. We won't miss the show," _he told Skywarp, the wind curving up in soggy blasts over his canopy. _"They have to wait on that human before they do anything." _

"_See, that's just it. It's not right, Decepticons waiting on fleshlings,"_ came the snarled response. _"We should firebomb this planet already and be done with it. It would make harvesting this rock a lot simpler. You'd think Megatron would finally get fed up with them and do what we did back on that one in that one system, what was it called...? Aw, who cares, it's not important... that place was horrible, but that plague we dropped in the water supply sure did the trick. Nice and simple." _

The blue jet drifted silently alongside, thinking. _"Plague... Hey, was that Altus?"_

"_Altus? That name sounds familiar. Yeah, I think that was it. I hated that place."_

"_I remember it. Only because the whole planet smelled like livestock." _

Black tail flap waggled in agreement._"No kidding. With the green scum covered bodies of water."_

"_Right, right. We are thinking about the same planet. Funny, there wasn't much resistance when we took it over."_

"_Because they probably didn't want it either. Nobody in their right mind wanted that nasty little rock. Sort of like this one."_

The massive blue plane lifted up in a full-bodied shrug. _"Well, at least Earth has decent resources. Only thing there was in Altus was dirt. Oh, and more dirt. All right, heading out, let's get this done quick. Meet you back at the dam."_

Engines flared with a shrieking rush of flame, and then the blue mech was banking elegantly. He stood nearly perpendicular on his wingtip before roaring off over the treetops. The grey sky snatched his dark color and sucked it neatly away. A white flicker of wing-lights struggled to put forth his coordinates, offering up a few fitful glints before they too faded to grey.

Skywarp eyed his wing-mech's departure with sullen silence. Flaps flicking back and forth in irritation, the black jet slid from side to side in an annoyed weave. He didn't want to patrol. What he really wanted was to be next to Megatron, watching eagerly as Prowl's head looped in a slow, lazy arc into the water below him, the shine of the Autobot's eyes drifting off into nothingness. _Let the stupid fish swim though his optic sockets. The Autobots are always going on and on about how wonderful the planet is, now he can be a permanent part of it. _

A blast of jet-wash hurled him forward. Underneath him, the dark green pines became a blur, an ocean of grey and green, the tips folding back, silvered by the strength of the backwash of wind. Drops of moisture beaded on his plating and slid back, dragging wet speed lines across black metal.

Sweeping back around, Skywarp was still grumbling to himself when his scanners registered the robot standing in the middle of the clearing.

It took a good three seconds before could confirm the presence visually. When he did, his engines blazed blue-white heat; a surge of fuel blasted through his systems as his scanners narrowed down onto the bulky form of the red mech. Sensors locked down on electrical impulses, the signature of a single Cybertronian system appeared on his readouts and relayed the vital inner workings of the robot on the ground beneath him.

Even though the Autobots usually managed to stick their sensors where they weren't wanted on a regular basis, he still found the ability to be surprised.

_Ironhide? Here? Alone? _

_Old rusting fool... _

_Wait, is he really out here with no backup? None? . _

If he'd been in his root mode, the black mech's grin would have sliced his jaw from one side of his black helm to the other. As it was, his tail flap quivered. Quickly, he cut all power to his engines and coasted silently through the sky, relying on his speed to keep him from stalling in mid-air. Even in the low-lying fog and generally grey weather, the Autobot remained visible, a bright red blot on the otherwise green and drab landscape. A spatter of fresh blood dead center of a polished white marble floor couldn't have been any more noticeable than Ironhide right now; the mech stood with his legs slightly apart as if to anchor himself like an unmoveable tripod, boxy shoulders thrown back. Carefully, he brought up his hand and shaded his optics, focusing on a distant hill and nodding to himself as he surveyed the only flat area for miles around and continued to talk to the air around him.

The bright patina of metal beckoned Skywarp down. In the end, what the Autobot was doing out here all by himself...

Skywarp didn't know, or remotely care.

Nose angled sharply towards the earth, the jet's engines offered up a dull, under-rolling rumble, soft and intent. Black and lavender wings twisted and rocked, sinuously imitating the stalking haunches of an intense, prey-driven cat about to pounce. His targeting systems cross-haired yellow to red under full power; the lasers tucked alongside his nose wobbled, then aligned perfectly onto a point on the Autobot's exposed back. _I'll shoot through you, _he thought to himself, his mental voice low and eager. _The last thing you'll see, you rustbucket, is what's left of that ugly front window of yours framing your main fuel pump for two beats. Then I'll explode that too. This is turning out to be a good day after all. Two for one deal on you Autobrats is a special I'll take advantage of. Maybe Megatron will give me a medal. Hell, maybe he'll finally promote me over Screamer. _

His fantasies surged until he could barely contain the pictures in his head. Starscream, forced to listen to his orders, whining and moaning, but the real joy would lie in the fact that Skywarp could just haul back and cuff him. Even better, he could visualize the fastidious silver-grey mech covered with spatters of green goo and burst sea anemone as he scrubbed the sides of the column of the retractable tower, thousands of tiny tentacles oozing acidic jelly and stripping off vanity.

A bright burst of light streaked out from underneath the dark jet, drawing a lethal line towards Ironhide's boxy form.

"Game over, you old red ba–"

The world spun.

Skywarp's nose was forced upward as a heavy weight slammed itself hard behind the curve of his canopy. The gouts of laser beams still threw their deadly color through the sky, but only tore up the ground harmlessly on either side of Ironhide, the impact roaring geysers of steam off of the wet grass. The red mech didn't even bother to move a step to the side or even react in any way; instead, he slowly shaded his optics with his hand and chuckled to himself as the jet rolled itself over and over, thrashing like an airborne crocodile.

Even that mighty effort didn't dislodge his now-passenger; instead there came a cry that suspiciously rang out in whoop of delight. A black fist slammed down as hard as it could into the front of his canopy. Knuckles reflected, skewed and stretched in that tinted curve of glass right before it spider-webbed it all the way down to the rim of the metal. Skywarp's hiss of recognition rose to a howl of hurt as the next punch sent razor sharp shards tumbling down into his interior. The wind drove them deep into his console; needles of translucent pain worked themselves underneath the curves of instruments, chewing and biting deep at every bit of exposed wiring they could reach. Thrashing in pain, the mech's mid-air writhing only caused the shards to dig in deeper and deeper, sawing into his metallic skin.

The jet lunged its nose upwards, engines shrieking out blasts of heat that tore the fog into ribbons.

"Whose game is over?"

"Get off of me!" the jet snarled as he slammed down his flaps and threw up his nose into the air. The Autobot laughed and slid backwards with impunity, wrapping each hand on the edge of Skywarp's tail-flaps.

"Come on, do your worst!" the red mech challenged, settling his heels and hanging on as the jet roared forward. A rush of wind smacked into his pale face as he opened his mouth, responded with a shout of laughter as the plane changed tactics and dived towards the earth.

"That's your worst? You suck, Skywarp."

There was a snort in his comm-link that didn't come from the aircraft underneath him.

"_Show off." _

Sideswipe laughed again, ducking down against the slipstream in an effort to relieve the thunder of wind in his audio sensors. One hand let go as the other clamped down; the red mech rose up on one toe and let his weight slide easily to the left, curling his elbow, swinging with a flourish that was as debonair as Gene Kelly's twirl around a rain slicked lamp-post.

"_Yeah, well, I'm daring and charming. And the ladies love me for it." _

"_Too bad you're not riding a lady." _

From where he stood on the ground, Sunstreaker's mouth worked his way into a smirk so obvious it echoed in every word. _"Although, it is Skywarp,"_ he mused. _"I'd say that's pretty close, all things considered." _

"_Ew!" _

The aircraft slammed forward through the air, tossing Sideswipe backwards. His feet slipped on the metal and he snatched at the tailfins of the jet, digging his fingers deep into gaps in the other mech's plating. Rivets groaned at the extra drag, and Sideswipe raised his foot to pound it heel first into Skywarp's back.

"Hey, cut it out down there. I can't hear his apology when you're banging around like that."

"_What apology?"_

"_The apology you're going to give for dumping that particular mental image on me." _

"_Not my fault your mind's so far in the smelter that image crawled there all on it's own." _

"I'll kill you!" Skywarp roared, realizing his dive was doing nothing to unseat his unwelcome passenger. With a snarl, he pulled straight up again. Sideswipe merely ducked low and squatted down a bit on his thighs for balance, setting his smile into the blast of wind.

"_Geeze, this guy will not shut up. Hang on, he's threatening me with death."_

"_He's threatening you?" _

"_Yeah. With death, even. Can you believe it?" _

"_It won't work." _

"_No kidding. It actually seems pretty stupid." _

'"_Yeah, I threaten you with it all the time and you're still here. Think he'd realize it won't do him any good." _

"_No kidding, if it doesn't work for you, it's sure not working for a Deceptijerk. Hmm. One second, okay? I might have to punch him again, help him change his mind." _

"_What, can't you talk and punch at the same time?" _

"_Sure I can, but didn't we get told we're not supposed to do that?" _

"_No, no. That was punching and talking at the same time." _

"_Ah ha. I knew there was a difference." _

"_Right, all about the wording." _

"_Ratchet didn't think so." _

"_Ratchet's a medic, what does he know about security?" _

"_He fixes Red Alert, right?" _

"_You think that makes him know security protocols?" _

"_Well, I figure someone's got to know something if they fish around in that crazy guy's head long enough." _

"_True..." _

Skywarp pitched, sliding himself over the trees. His flaps pumped and sawed, slicing him into a lateral turn. The foot cracked into his back again, and he viciously shoved his nose into the fog and leapt upwards. Haze trailed under his wings, cut above and below into slices of vapor as he struggled to shake his passenger off.

"Once I get you off, I'll kill you!"

"Hit you harder? Okay!" Sideswipe replied cheerfully, doing just that.

Skywarp roared, his voice ragged with his furious inability to do anything but buck and roll and dive. Even that was useless at the moment; his alt mode was fast and powerful, but his advantage in the air came from the fact that his foes couldn't keep up with his speed during an initial pass. Once he was able to gain turning room, he then could lead them easily. In a pure out and out aerial fight, it often came down to who could gain the angle on their opponent to take them out. Right now, the mech's options were limited; he couldn't obtain anything on a foe that was literally on top of him.

Sideswipe inclined his hand, and tapped his hand in an exaggerated gesture on the side of his helm.

"You say something?" he called down.

"I said, _get off!"_

"Kick you again? Sounds good to me!"

The Decepticon's answering bellow counterpointed the hollow bang of Sideswipe's drumming heels. He dove down toward the treetops, fully intent on rolling over and using the forest itself to scrape Sideswipe from his back. A quick jerk to the left sent him diving towards the green tips; he locked visual onto the broken branches, jagged and sharp, sheared from the tops of the firs by wind and weather.

His mind clamped onto the thought that impaling was an appropriate death for this particular red mech.

_Die, you little –_

Bright and bold against the woods, a hot flash of yellow caught his attention. He threw his flaps down and his nose back into the grey air, flung himself upwards.

"_Aw, man, he saw you." _

"_Use your weight, roll him to the left! Give me a clear shot!" _

A yank, a twist, and Skywarp's engines blazed to compensate, fighting to turn the other way. A burst of fire tore three holes into his wing, the fourth scraped across his belly.

_There's more of them out there. The old ruster was a trap. That's it. You want a ride, Autobot? I'll give you your ride. Right into the waiting gunsights of the rest of the Decepticon army._

Purple light shimmered down coldly down his wings, and then the fog filled the hole where he and his passenger had once been.


	10. Chapter 10

Dart's ground-covering trot came to a slow halt in the thick boughs of the pines once again. She'd run the perimeter that she'd been given once at a good clip, reporting back with as few words as possible that there was no movement by anyone in the vicinity, but she'd go around once more, just to make sure. The second circle had been admittedly an attempt to just waste time, to not think about anything but the sound of air rushing through her intakes.

Up in the wet branches of a bigleaf maple, a songbird began to twitter. Her audios amplified the brassy call of a Stellar's jay into a loud trumpet of territorial pique as the blue bird dove from branch to branch, raising his black crest in a fit of pique. A tiny red squirrel chewed on a pinecone with nervous, careful snips. Dart tipped her head back to eye the canopy around her, realizing that she had never before noticed how noisy a place a forest was. She'd walked in much of the Oregon landscape. Hiked in it. Heck, she'd slept overnight in a tent with a creature that should never ever have shared half a can of cold Spaghetti-O's with her before being zipped in for the evening. If that wasn't a time of terrifying, strange noises and possible death by canine chemical weapon, she didn't know what was.

Even so, not once had she ever comprehended how so much constant background chatter occurred in the natural world. Now, with her enhanced audio sensors, it was obvious how scant and cautious animals became when something un-natural moved through their midst. Once she'd been standing still, however, she had been rewarded by a flow of avian babble moving into the thickets around her; silence gave way to flapping wings and bobbing motion, accompanied by the low-level, constant prattle of their daily routines.

The foggy air was so damp with retained moisture that Dart found she could only take a few deep sniffs of it before having to tilt her head to the side to clear the accumulated water out of her sensors. Finally, she was forced to duck her head and snort. Droplets beaded along her upper lip. A furtive glance turned her head from side to side before she lifted her arm and quickly wiped her nose on the back of her wrist. She started to scrub that off on her thigh and then caught herself and commenced to use the leaves on the tree next to her instead.

Silence drifted down and settled back at her motion. Dart lifted her head, cocked it to one side, and a smile lifted the corners of her lips for the first time since she'd left her teammates down at the bottom of the dam. _Sorry, guys... er, birds. I know, I know, it's gross, but... ha, I don't think they make Kleenex quite big enough– _

Pressure locked around her throat. It ratcheted down with the biting efficiency of a wire snare.

A throttled yelp, and the courier's instincts took over as if she'd been spurred hard in the flank. The seconds that followed were a blur of snapping branches and flailing limbs. It was a mark of her assailant's skill that he adroitly avoided Dart's frantic series of backwards kicks. One strike nailed a small hemlock behind the struggling robots; it exploded into jagged bottlenecks of bark. Overhead, the canopy of leaves tilted crazily as she swung to the left, dragging her off balance. Small conifers splintered under their weight, and the shards cracked into her exposed flank. A shift of his weight shoved her nose against unyielding metal. Sharp spears of scent spiked into her olfactory sensors. They layered within, curling the sweet, coconut-flavored appeal of high quality car wax into her nose, confirming the other robot's presence. Overwhelmed, the courier wheezed as the choke-hold tightened, the joints in the his elbow working with the utmost precision to cut off the main flow of her intakes.

A coughing gurgle followed as she twisted her head to the side, struggling to catch a glimpse of the other mechanism behind her. Much to her shock she realized that there appeared to be nothing there, nothing except branches and grass and the waxy leaves of the converging underbrush. Yet, something had a grip on her; she could feel a palm against her mid-section, then fingertips dug down into her flank as they attempted to find purchase on her belly, scraping along the grey, flat plane of metal. Finally, they hooked onto the edge of one of her hip-carriers; she felt the magnetic lock snap open with bone-sharp sound. Immediately, her elbow locked stiff, her palm flat. Warnings repeated over and over, drilled into her head - Decepticon couriers who let missives fall into enemy hands would be immediately seen for what they were, fools and idiots.

_Human. _

Programming combined with Starscream-instilled paranoia. Dart thrust her hand down and slammed the holder shut.

Over her shoulder, the air wavered. Branches and brown-edged leaves trembled, coalescing into ice blue slits. Unlike Skywarp's air-mauling tumult of disappearance and arrival, this invisible mech's outline solidified softly and quietly out of the world around him, sketching one piece of him at a time from of the area of distortion. A shiver of light drifted downward to reveal a black fist and a white forearm, then washed back to the deep, glossy blue of his shoulder. That rich color was that was all Dart could see of him since the side of his helm was now parallel to her own.

"Where is he?"

She didn't recognize the speaker's voice at all. The words were soft, dry, and cultural, as if it should have been relaxing for the weekend in an upscale country club where the rich and famous dallied at tennis between bouts of wine and slices of imported goat cheese licked with well-aged basalmic vinegar.

"W-who–?" the courier stuttered back, grey fingers clawing at the arm wrapped around her neck in a desperate attempt to release the clamp on her throat.

"Prowl."

Molecules of odor beat themselves like porch-light moths into the network of relays lining Dart's intakes. Only then did the undertones of familiar scents cue themselves into primal understanding; her nose roughing out a picture that coalesced into her brain. Bars, lit soft with the greenish glow, long corridors, seeping, mineral laden water - and a random discussion about Doublemint gum.

_Sulphur? Volcano. Cell bay. Autobot! _

The girl's long leg kicked awkwardly behind her again, barely missing the mech's knee.

Mirage's immediate response to her action was a jerk that contorted her neck back. Cables and linkage strained to nearly the breaking point as the mech held her still. There was unspoken threat in his hands; it quietly informed her that he could instantly snap her main relays.

"That is the wrong answer. Try again. I don't have time to play this game with the likes of you."

The Autobot had control and leverage, which was the best place to be in these sort of circumstances, and he also understood how to use it to his full advantage. Instead of backing away, he pressed the edge of his chest hard into the small of her back. This strategy effectively lifted the girl's body up, causing her to arch in an awkward line; all the courier could do was dangle and scrabble, even though she was at least as tall as him. Her long legs churned circles of helpless motion, the edge of her toes tearing out divots of grass by the roots. In the clots of rich black loam earthworms writhed in confusion, then squirmed and dived away from the light.

As soon as the mech lifted her off the ground and she completely lost her footing, overwhelming panic shoved most of Dart's thought capacity into what resembled a tiny rubber ball and flicked it across the hollow room of her head. It bounced inside from wall to wall with it, brought icy dread.

"Let me go!" she yelped.

"No," Mirage said flatly, unimpressed with both her demand and her stupidity for even thinking he'd consider it. "Now. Prowl. Where is he. Tell me, or I'll cut your throat and drop you where you stand, Decepticon."

A pause, and then she resumed fighting to draw in air to her cooling systems.

"At- at the dam," she offered.

Mirage leaned closer, watching as the glass of the girl's optics reflected his ire.

"I don't know its name," Dart half-choked, half-babbled, her voice rising in pitch as she struggled against his grip. All she wanted right now was solid ground under her feet. The thought wiped everything out but the soundless litany in her head. _Down. Put me down, put me back down. _

"Not good enough," he replied curtly.

"I don't, it- it's the one here. On the river. Near - near the mountain, sort of, I think... I don't know. I don't know."

"I doubt that very much."

"But I honestly don't know! I ran here," she gasped, as if that explained everything. It did to her. She'd run it, she remembered the landmarks by sight and scent. Distance meant nothing - what she remembered along the way was the bracing, ankle deep cold of a small stream, an ancient, half-rotten cedar stump completely clothed in bracken, the acidic, musky dribble on the narrow game trail underneath the metal electrical towers where a hopeful buck was following close after a reluctant doe's company.

"Then you should be able to run back, yes?"

The courier's brain was still struggling with the fact she'd turned left at the stump and kept going straight past the deer to fully understand what direction the Autobot was pushing the conversation. "The mountain?"

"No. The dam."

"The dam? Wait, you don't want to go there, all of the Decepticons are there. They'll kill you."

Dart caught a glint of blue from around the edge of her helm. A coldly narrowed eye conveyed the mech's complete loss of any patience he might have had.

"One would expect that to be the case, and for them to try and fail miserably. However, the fact that they're all there does make me wonder why you are this far out here. Wait. You're a courier, yes?"

"Y-yes."

Mirage grunted in response and leaned against her even harder. The edge of his chest wedged itself under her spoiler, throwing Dart even farther off balance. Deliberately, he lowered his mouth inches away from her audios and quietly offered threat. "Then answer my question. Otherwise, you'll have a hard time even limping home. How does that sound?"

It was obvious that his idea was unpleasant to the Decepticon. She went stock still in his grip, shuddering. Her main pump pounded out a frightened thud within her chest; it was the only thing that could run free at the moment and it took full advantage of the situation to do so. Okay, not the only thing, Dart's imagination was right there matching stride for stride, neck and neck, wondering helpfully if they'd find all four of her limbs neatly stacked like cordwood next to what was left of her body. Maybe she'd just end up as one of those cubes they took out of the car crusher, flat enough to set a nice brass table lamp on.

"It sounds bad," she admitted.

"Good. You understand the situation perfectly. Now, I'm asking you to tell me, one last time; where is he? If you don't answer, my encouragement will consist of cutting the support rods right above your knee."

Caught between them, the girl's spoiler twitched and trembled, scratching a deep line in his paint. "Well, that sounds even worse," she stammered. Her attempt at a nervous grin only dissolved into a mouth tight with trepidation. "I told you, the dam. I swear. Cross my heart, I'm not lying. At the dam, I mean, wait, on the dam, they have him on the dam..."

"Right. Which way? How far?"

He shifted his grip. She could hear his other hand edging slowly down across her flank.

She barely held in another kick through fear of the mech's repercussion. "I don't know. I was just running back the way I came, but I looped, I don't know how far it is. Miles? Ten? Twenty?"

A rasp of metal on metal. "Well, that's unfortunate for you, then..."

As much as Mirage would have liked to have done exactly as he menaced, the Autobot merely ended up shifting the girl's weight and shoving her forward so that a swift kick behind her knee would collapse the joint out from underneath her. Once she was belly down on the ground, he'd snap a set of binders on her and leave her there for someone else to pick up and deal with. For a brief moment, the truculent thought that a single shot would be the simplest solution to this situation settled itself longingly into his mind.

Then he sighed, knowing how Prime frowned on unnecessary violence. Too bad the Decepticons didn't frown on it as well.

Dart's toe finally caught the edge of the earth. She locked her knee and plunged forward as if to break one of the tape lines at the end of a hard fought sprint race. Her sudden burst of speed tore loose the mech's grip on her mid-section; his hand flew up and smashed against the edge of his own wrist, releasing her throat. The two machines cracked against each other, him lunging to regain his hold on her spoiler; the Decepticon pitching herself from side to side and lashing out with all limbs in an attempt to escape. Mirage's hand managed to grab the edge of her chin; his fingers pressed tight into the hinge of her jaw. Expelling a yip-burst of air, she launched herself up and bucked sideways, nearly breaking free. Mirage cursed and gouged his thumb down, grinding as hard as he could.

Tight clusters of neuro-relays ran pathways close to the surface plating on a Cybertronian's face, controlling much of the slight, delicate movements of nose, brow, cheek, and lip. What Mirage had done with his thumb was to force one of the pain sensory arrays right into the rigid underlay structure of the girl's jaw supports. It was a move he'd used more than a few times to his advantage in close combat - exploiting an opponent's body against themselves often was the quickest way out of a bad situation. An unexpected jolt usually gave you enough time to regroup and regain the upper hand in a tight-quarters fight.

The Decepticon's startled yelp of pain informed him he'd succeeded.

His own yelp was equally astonished when she bit him.

Somehow Dart had managed to twist her head around enough to chomp down in the painfully inconvenient spot right between Mirage's thumb and forefinger. He heard the crunch of plating, reminiscent of Spike one afternoon crushing soda cans underneath his work-boots; the noise was followed by a sharp blossom of pain. Heels planted, the mech spun and pivoted in an awkward semi-circle, completely releasing his hold on the girl as he snapped her back and away from him, thrashing his arm in an attempt to shake free. Instead of letting go, the girl only dug in deeper; he ended up dragging her around by her jaws. He reeled and cursed, she staggered and half fell to one knee before struggling back up.

Mud spattered both machines with the earthy odor of decaying maple leaves.

The logical point in Dart's thought processes made sure she knew she was standing there chewing on some guy's hand. The illogical part pointed out that chewing seemed rightly deserved for a guy who'd tried to shove his hand - mind you, without even saying hello - into her pants pocket.

Mirage had hunted turbo-foxes for a long time, so the comparisons he had popping into his head weren't surprising. New hunters made a mistake at least once in their learning curve, in that they usually reached down a hole, feeling confident enough to retrieve an imagined carcass before the animal was actually dead. This was where the learning experience came into play, because the hunter would find himself with a vicious little scavenger latching down hard on whatever it could reach, snarling defiance from between needle-sharp fangs. Usually, after much yelling, cursing, and amusement, a hunting partner would have to plan a rescue, usually accomplished by stuffing a break-pipe behind the fox's last set of teeth, using leverage to snap it loose. Unfortunately, this often occurred long minutes after the animal had finally expired.

Bereft of a partner to set him free, the expression that fastened itself on Mirage's face wavered between complete shock and total outrage. The courier worried her jaws back and forth on his hand, creasing deeper into his metal skin.

Mirage's visage twisted completely in the direction of outrage. "Stop that!"

Obviously, this translated into Decepticon as, 'bite harder and growl even more.'

The mech struck out hard, his hand ringing off of the curve her shoulder. A second hit cracked against the flat of her ponytail. "Let go, you savage! Get your filthy mouth off of me!"

His third blow finally seemed to whack home the thinking part of whatever sensibilities were still rattling around in the Decepticon's helm. Wrenching herself backwards, Dart tore her mouth free of his hand. A thin strand of fuel leashed her lips to his fingers before the viscous thread of fluid snapped back and spattered across his palm.

Mirage backpedaled, quickly getting out of range in case she kicked out towards him again.

Feral as a junkyard turbo-hound who'd lived its life on a short length of rusting cable, the Decepticon's slanted optics glared up at him as she lifted her head. Chewing reflexively, she brought her hand slowly up to her mouth, rubbing the back of her hand across her lips, half-curling her fingers as if she was trying to paw the taste of him away. Slowly, she backed up a step, then another, toe to heel as her baffled expression made way for a gaze that dived towards the woods and shot towards the hills.

Seeing the flight response settle on her face, Mirage smoothly drew his rifle out the magnetic clips that anchored it across his back, his uninjured hand secure on the weapon's grip. He braced the barrel on his forearm to steady it. His fingers throbbed, but his voice was low and steady, perfectly calm. "Stand still, you. Now."

The courier stared back at him. Her throat spasmed twice, as if she was trying to swallow her fear. Slowly, she lowered her foot back to the ground, the spoiler across her shoulders clacking and rattling.

Suddenly, she tilted her chin and glanced upward. Mirage's rifle never wavered. It was an obvious, pathetic bluff; his sensors didn't relay anything except the two of them... wait, no, now it registered, a mutter of sound that became a thin snarl in the distance, the sound of a jet rushing through the air.

Mirage noted it. _Decepticon flier. Moving away from us, though... in a big hurry._

The girl's unease became apprehension. One foot dug into the ground behind her, and then with a lunge that sent a spray of dirt into the air, she whirled and fled.

Finger snapping down at the first indication of movement, Mirage pulled the trigger, silenced rifle coughing out the liquid-fuel driven projectile. Dart bounded away in a furious drive of speed; however, it was only the fact that she flattened herself down to the left to avoid a small stand of maples that Mirage's shot didn't drill home dead center of her back. Instead, a sparking crease appeared on the curve of her shoulder. She bit back a yelp as she ducked her head down, elbows pumping as she dived desperately into the thick woods. Half-yellowed leaves whirled, caught in the updraft as the courier threw her arm up in front of her face, wincing with anticipation of what she was about to do a second before she slammed herself into the leading edge of the forest with its tightly packed trees. Branches cracked and shattered, slapping against her flanks. Pine needles rattled and flew off of her chest plating with the sound of rapid gunfire; with a final desperate leap that carried her over a fallen snag, the courier flattened out into stride, leaving an avenue of shattered boughs behind her.

The astringent smell of pine sap drifted back into his face.

Mirage drew a deep suck of air past his intakes and composed himself. He thumbed the safety back on his rifle, not bothering to fire off a second shot. It was obviously futile - the girl was fast, long gone, and he hated to waste ammunition. You never knew when a burst sent off in a pique would end up costing you your life later. Carefully, he shifted the stock of his rifle into his hand, automatically checked the firing chamber for any sign of damage, and then hefted it up. Underneath his plating, the network of circuitry that controlled his light-bending abilities worked towards his silent directive; they melded his bright sky colors back into the green and brown landscape as his long strides carried him towards the path the girl had torn gracelessly through the woods.

His comm beeped softly.

"_Mirage." _

"_Mirage here, Prime." _

"_Sideswipe's got a lock on Skywarp."_

A dry chuckle escaped the mech.

"_Knowing how he is, I'm sure it's a headlock." _

"_Most likely," _was the Autobot leader's amused reply. _"We're following him in now, and we need to get there as soon as possible. Once Megatron realizes we're here, he'll react accordingly."_

"_Badly, is that what you're trying to say?"_

"_Yes."_

Mirage eyed the mangled swath of tree branches before him. The jagged, white-bone end of a stripped fir branch dripped reddish resin; he adroitly avoided getting any of it on his plating. The gooey substance was notoriously hard to get off of finish. Mirage didn't relish the thought of spending hours with a turpentine soaked rag to scrub it free._"Understood, Prime. I think I've found a fairly direct route there myself. I'll meet you at the dam. Mirage out." _

There was a soft click as the open comm line faded into silence.

So did Mirage.

Fog curled through the woody stems of the weeds; steam rose from the black warmth of the churned earth. A small flock of chickadees trickled down through the branches, sifting cheerily through the mud where the robots had struggled.

Everything returned to normal.

Well, nearly everything, except for a tiny black curve of metal that bobbed along in mid-air. The Decepticon's bite had crushed the delicate cloaking hardware in that spot on Mirage's hand. One drop of half-processed fuel welled up from the damaged area and filmed the edge of the wound. Invisible optics glanced down, and the Autobot offered up a low huff of frustration in the back of his throat before he slapped his hand over the damage and concealed it from sight.

* * *

Grey sky shredded and peeled away from a vortex of black and violet. 

One second later, the sharp tip of Skywarp's nose tore through the hole and ripped him free of the dark blot above the river. The deafening screech of jet engines poured itself across the forest; Canadian geese, swimming placidly in the current eddies, serpentined their necks in a rigid curve of surprise. Simultaneously hissing and honking at the overwhelming onslaught of noise. Their primary feathers slapped the water into froth before they half-ran, half-flew into the reeds for safety.

Injured and angry, trailing oily smoke from his underbelly, the Decepticon lunged in short, sharp jerks, still desperately trying to dislodge his unwanted passenger. He'd thought that the power-surge created when he teleported might be disorientating to the mech on his back, but apparently, Sideswipe's reinforced plating had been able to keep any jolts from reaching his main synapses; the Autobot was unaffected. So unaffected, in fact, that he was still perched between the dark jet's tail fins with ease.

Ratchet cursed Sideswipe's thick head on a regular basis. Oddly enough, for once it had saved him from a lot of extra work.

A rivet on the jet's wing worked loose and shot past the bridge of Sideswipe's nose, narrowly missing his optic. The Autobot didn't even flinch. However, he bent his knees and crouched low over the plane's back before he shifted his grip and cuffed one of Skywarp's stabilizers. "I thought you Decepticons were supposed to be tough."

Skywarp rolled to the left. Wind tore ragged white noise into Sideswipe's audio receptors. The Autobot buried his face into the rush of air, his mouth open in a smile as wide as a dog's out for a Sunday drive, optics squinting as the grey curve of the hills rocked on the horizon. Another rivet shook itself out of a seam and bounced off of the red mech's thigh. It flaked off a huge chip of paint, leaving behind a deep pit of exposed metal.

"Hold together a little longer, will you?" Sideswipe complained, eyeing the damage to his finish. "Hey, and where's my in-flight movie? And don't say shoved up my-"

Skywarp muttered. Sideswipe cocked his head, shifted his grip, and cheerfully slammed his fist into the Decepticon's tail fin.

"I told you, don't."

Metal quivering with the blow, the plane clapped its flaps down, long licks of exhaust flame searing the damp air into steam as the nose rose nearly perpendicular in an angle of rage. Continuing on with his motion, the black jet tipped itself backwards, engines bellowing as he heaved itself left and right in the air. Sideswipe felt his feet being dragged out from underneath him; his fingers hooked deep into the gaps in the other mech's plating. Grunting, he arched his back, locked the rotors in his shoulders and tried throwing his weight forward, hoping it would drop Skywarp's nose down and level him out.

It didn't.

Sidewswipe's feet lost purchase. His heels drummed a line of dents along the black mech's engines before he slipped, the Autobot's entire weight snapping his elbows taunt. Yanked around, his lower body swung out and wrenched his hips until his main relay cable network threatened to snap apart, humming metallically with the weighty drag of his own limbs. Underneath him, the Decepticon felt the sudden scrape, and then the jolt of Sideswipe's bulk twisted his tail flap to the left.

Bellowing with triumph, sixty-three feet of robot disguised as a fighter aircraft whipped around like a rank bucking bull. The same low wing-loading that allowed a human built F-15 to turn tightly without losing airspeed came into play. Sideswipe took one look at the fact that there was a very good chance that the wash of the engines was going to melt him in half; with a rather petulant grumble, he let go and allowed himself to be swept into the slipstream. Luck played a huge part in the fact that not only did he not get a swath burned out of his mid-section by the blue-white flare of Skywarp's jets, but that the Decepticon's nose didn't connect and send him crashing off in another direction.

Immediately, Sideswipe tried firing up his rocket pack. It sputtered, choked, and the Autobot's puzzled frown met free-fall.

Dart's dash back through the woods had been slowed by both tightly spaced trees and muddy terrain. A glance behind her, one of a hundred she had thrown in the last few minutes was all she had time to do before the river bank appeared and she was knee deep into the cold water. Slippery with brown patches of algae, the rounded rocks beneath her feet snatched her off balance. Water splashed up around her knees, white and frothy with the current as she snap-slid to a hard stop.

_Which way do I go, which way do I - it's faster going up the river, back to the dam. This is the right river, right? I don't know, it's a river, and it's not that big, so it has to be the one. Oh, where's that stupid map readout when I need it? Where's the on switch?_

_Hallelujah!_

Praise boomed in her audio receptors, and it was loud enough to make her wince and clap a hand to the side of her head. At least her radio was kind enough to cut instantly to a commercial instead of another hour-long Jimmy Swaggart marathon, but it wouldn't turn off. In fact, she must have found the internal volume knob again because the airwaves were ordering her to go and join the Air Force, right this instant. Ironic, sure, but not funny. Dart was tempted sorely to rip the stupid tuner out of wherever it was residing within her, toss it on the ground, and then stomp it as flat as three week old road-kill for good measure.

A shriek of frustration battered the air around her.

The radio clicked off.

Blessed silence. Well, okay, perhaps it wasn't quite so blessed, but that was just fine with Dart.

It took her almost a full second to realize that the cry hadn't come out of her throat. With that understanding came the next two seconds of thought where her mind tried to work out where the noise had actually originated from. When the third second of thought remembered the fact that she was probably being pursued by an invisible - and likely rather angry Autobot - the courier decided that now probably wasn't the time to stand in place in the middle of an open river.

Floundering her way against the sluggish current, she geared back up to a trot. A fish slicked itself along the metal of her leg, then swept off downstream. Nervously, her head turned from side to side and focused on the thick woods she'd just torn out of; across her upper back, the black strip of metal chattered out worry as if it were a particularly vociferous squirrel. However, even though she tried as hard as she could, she was unable to find a whiff of metal in the air. There was nothing around her but the deep mineral smell of clay and decaying water weed.

Had the blue and white Autobot beaten her here? Her fuel pump slammed against the confines of her chest as she scrambled upstream. _He's invisible and he can run, too? Oh, I am so d– _

The river less than ten yards in front of her exploded, accompanied by the sound of a car crashing at sixty miles an hour into a rock wall. Sheets of spray thundered into the air. Froth and loose stone smashed outward from the point of impact. Dart threw up her hands instinctively to protect her eyes. Her awkward leap backward landed badly, ankle twisting as her weight rolled over on the arch of her foot. She teetered back and forth until finally she tipped forward and splashed down in the stream, elbows locked in an effort to keep herself from crashing chin first into the rocks. A gout of water reached up and smacked her in the face, sluicing icy wetness down inside of her throat guard.

Sputtering, shaking her head, the courier scrubbed her hand across her optics in an attempt to see what was happening. Vision hazed into a streaky blur by the water, she scrabbled to her feet and lunged for the brown blur of the riverbank, diving for the nearest stretch of solid ground.

Water rushing outward from the sheer velocity of the crash smashed into her broadside. It tumbled the courier head over heels, easily snatching up a couple of tons of robot like a kid who'd found the one missing toy they'd needed to complete their collection in the sale bin. Obviously, the water also had a hard time transforming Dart into her Trans-Am alt-mode with no instruction booklet. The onslaught gurgled through the gaps in her helm, sounding as if it were old flush toilet choking down a wad of paper towels. With a drunken belch, it slopped her precariously halfway up on the opposite bank and left her, happily rushing down the draw in the hopes of finding something more interesting to play with.

Snatching at the switches of willow trailing over the river, Dart tangled her fingers in the branches and used them to heave herself up on her hands and knees. She pawed her way up the incline, coughing and snorting. Wheezing, she hung her head between her locked forearms, gulping air in an attempt to re-calibrate her systems before she was able to stagger into the relative safety of a patch of aspen saplings. Bent at an awkward, hunched over angle, she folded over her haunches, supporting herself on the flat of her palms. Her flanks heaved, and the courier stretched out her neck and hacked up foamy mouthfuls of water, intakes trying to purge out the worst of the impromptu flooding. It took all of her raw courage to peer back towards the river; with what she was fast learning about giant robot battles, she fully expected to see a vapored crater where some massive ordinance had slammed into earth.

The speckled rainbow trout flew into the air and fluttered its fins against the grey sky as if it was striving for the next step on the evolutionary fish-ladder.

True, it sort of resembled a missile. It did have fins to stabilize itself, a torpedo shaped body, a pointed nose. A gaping mouth popped open and shut as the overcast light shone blue off of its back and light colored sides, pink band flashing from gill to vent. Mid-air, it whipped left and right, curled in on itself as if fighting a hook. Gravity decided to be kind and drag the animal back into its natural environment, and the fish belly-flopped back into the stream.

Sideswipe rose from the hole he'd created, sitting up as water slithered down the gloss of his red paint. Moisture beaded up and flattened as it made contact with layers of wax and polish. The mech spat, grimaced, and rubbed the back of his hand across his lips, smearing fishy slime and tiny scales across his chin. Strands of Elodia weed trailed from the sides of his helm to drape across his shoulders in tawdry emerald curls. Right now, he resembled the unholy offspring of stunned surfer dude and sports car.

Dart blinked.

The Autobot lifted up his hands and glared at them briefly. Then he slapped them down into the water, palm first, following his gesture up with a few choice words; the kind that were normally scrawled in black magic marker on seedy restroom walls.

"_Ha. You got dumped."_

Sourly, Sideswipe swatted at the river again as his brother's jab crackled into his audio receptors.

"_Nah, I jumped."_

"_Jumped, dumped, you still got tossed right on your skidplate, no difference," _was the yellow mech's reply.

"_Sure it does, it's all in if you bail off or get thrown off."_

Black vapor roiled overhead, manifesting into solid metal. Snapping on its heels came the boom of displaced air rushing into the hole in the sky.

"_He's 'ported back in over me." _

The banter from his brother became instantly serious. _"Right. I'm on my way."_

Sensors locking on target to the object of his hate, the dark aircraft slammed itself into a dive, the sharp point of its nosecone focusing the angle of its attack dead center on the Autobot's chest. In a rapid whine of laser fire, the middle of the river cascaded upwards into an offset row of geysers. Dodging the blasts, the red mech lunged onto his feet, gun in hand, squeezing off one shot after another at the jet's underbelly. Two strikes scored smoking welts of bubbling metal, the third missed as Sideswipe dived face-first into the water to narrowly avoid being decapitated by the leading edge of Skywarp's wing. He rolled head over heels and came up firing again.

Dart barely held in a stuttering whine as she crunched down between the spars of the trees. Leaves scattered around her as she twitched nervously, spoiler pressed tightly against her back as if she was hiding underneath the metal strip. She sunk her fingers into the tangled roots and steadied herself. Great, she didn't know what she was more worried about at the moment; the invisible mech who was no doubt going to hear this confrontation and arrive rather shortly, or the red mech who'd knocked her to kingdom come back in the canyon.

It ended up being neither.

Tree limbs exploded into a rain of toothpicks as Skywarp powered his way his way into a wide turn, banking back for another pass. In his fury, he was slamming through the branches, rushing by so low to the ground that Dart fully expected the airplane to scythe the tip of his wing into the dirt and flip end over end in a fireball of destruction. He didn't, firing his thrusters to roar past, but to the courier, it seemed as if there was no grace at all in that motion. He heaved himself into the air and clawed through the sky with heavy handed see-saws of flap and rudder, as if he had flopped to his belly and was rolling in setting concrete. Then again, maybe that was how a plane operated this close to the ground; she admitted that she honestly had no more inkling of flight dynamics than a corpulent kiwi bird.

Skywarp swung around in the air, canted underside over back, corkscrewing down at his opponent again as he drove towards him. Furious, the jet poured a blaze of firepower down at Sideswipe. Laser beams hissed as they struck damp soil, fused the neat holes with veins of newly minted glass. Smooth river rocks crackled and groaned with heat, blazing cherry red.

Well, at least on a high note, it hadn't been Starscream overhead like she'd feared earlier...

There was a whoop from mid-river. She glanced back in time to see Sideswipe roll and kick off of the rocks. His jet pack stuttered once, then twice, and then he kicked his foot out in a half-circle while he flared his jump-boosters in a blaze of blue. Water sheeted around him, and steam roiled up to obscure the red mech in clouds of thick white vapor. The plane screamed into it.

Jaws clenched tight in anticipation of the collision that seemed inevitable, Dart's legs took control. With a surge of fright, she bolted out of her hiding place. She bounded through a tangle of interwoven blackberry vines, then cleared a deadfall of two maples with the high and tight knee of a steeplechaser before dashing back into the tall trunks of the pines.

Skywarp emerged from Sideswipe's cover right into the sights of Sunstreaker. The yellow mech braced his rifle barrel across his forearm, optics slit in a concentration of angry blue as his finger squeezed the trigger. Shots rang out, two thunked deep into the jet's exposed flank. Opaque fuel sprayed into the air as the jet howled.

Purple fire limned the Decepticon, then his outline guttered into nothingness as if he were a candle exposed to a sudden draft.

A few moments later, the fading steam seemed to coalesce into an equally white grin. Sideswipe rose to his feet, water pouring out of every gap in his plating. He coughed, hacked, and spat all in the same efficient motion.

"Nice hit," he offered. "Glad I lined him up for you."

"You're more likely to line up the planets," Sunstreaker scoffed.

Sideswipe laughed and limped out of the river. Steam still twisted into the air from the exhaust ports of the jet-pack on his back. He shook out one leg at a time, sloshing out the river water, tracking huge puddles up onto the slippery clay bank. "Well, fine by me. If he had to mess with me, means he's used up a lot of his energy and time teleporting randomly around like a moron."

"How many times does it take for that classification?"

"What, moron? Just once if it's Skywarp."

"Heh," Sunstreaker chuckled. "That's why your rocket pack didn't work?"

"What, the teleporting? Think so. Scrambled the ignition mechanism, I bet. It's working fine now, though."

"Good, because we're going to have to haul tail to get to the dam before the party starts without us," the yellow Autobot said, jerking his thumb before he turned and started to jog up the side of the river. Ferns crushed into the mud under his weight, releasing the smell of anise. "Come on, we're out of here... unless you want to take another swim?"

"No thanks. Lucky that river decided to show up and break my fall," Sideswipe replied, loping alongside his brother. "You think they'd be nice and wait for us to show up before they kick some Decepticon tailpipe. I mean, I straddled a moron ten miles and kept him occupied. You think I'd get something for it."

"I want you to know you always set yourself up for this joke - but isn't that sort of like your last date?"

"She loved it all the way, baby," the red mech grinned.

Sunstreaker rolled an optic, pushed aside a branch. It sprang back with a loud whack and slapped the red mech right in the head.

"What was that for?" Sideswipe wondered as he tried to run and peel off a leaf that was stuck dead center of his eye at the same time.

"Me."

Sideswipe grinned again. "You can't handle my love life."

"I don't want to, not even with lead tongs. Shut up and run."

* * *

"I'm done waiting, Swindle." 

The Combaticon nodded quickly, fingers twining nervously in front of him. His thumbs tapped restlessly against one another before he pinned his left one under his right and hurriedly stilled the motion. "Understood, boss."

There was no point in arguing with Megatron when he was like that. Not that Swindle would have ever even considered doing so. Heck, he was more surprised that the Decepticon leader had managed to restrain himself this long. It was now going on forty five minutes since the last call, and the news crew still hadn't arrived. Not that Swindle really cared if the reporter was out of luck; he didn't feel that under the circumstances he had to give any of the money back. The story wasn't going anywhere except to the bottom of a river. Although, maybe he could stick around and point out the location of the body for an extra hundred or two...

At least two. A hundred wasn't worth waiting another forty five minutes. Time was money to him, and all this time wasted here he could have spent fussing around with his stockbroker; which was what he would have much rather been doing than hanging out and watching a dying Autobot nailed up to a dam.

Even if the Autobot he was seeing there was Prowl, who had cost him a lot of money over the last few years. Hey, dumping nuclear waste off the Washington coast was a downright easy task - no one noticed, no one cared, and the humans in charge of cleanup did a wonderful job of looking the other way when everything on the record looked perfectly legit.

The mech eyed the Autobot again, his systems souring with an irritated surge. On second thought, the Autobot could stay up there for the next decade. That had been a heck of a lot of money. It would take a hundred reporters to equal one quarter of that revenue.

His jaw tightened. _Not to mention whatever Autojerk came up with the idea of breaking into that account and diverting my hard-earned payoffs into the Watershed Fund needs some serious payback. _That thank you card that those ecological fish huggers had sent to his post office box... insult to injury, right there. What could he do, debate that his illegally gained money had been illegally donated? Right, and he had a bridge to sell someone on Cybertron. _And as I well know, that only works about five times before someone catches onto it and they hire someone to show up on your doorstep with things that make you go owch. Usually there's two of them, they're twice your size, and they throw a wicked right hook. Not worth it. _

"So, that means we can kill him now, right?" Rumble wondered, visor bright and eager with the prospect of violence. Hand balled into a fist, he smacked it into the curve of his palm with a resounding crack of metal on metal.

At the sound, Frenzy pitched back his own strange noise. High-toned and coming in fits and starts, it went three or four notes, giggling past the Decepticon's lips in maniacal glee before Rumble frowned and whacked him across the back, open-palmed as if he was attempting to loosen up his brother's vocalizer. Frenzy sputtered, the noisemakers buried deep in his flat chest blasting out, scalping up the vegetation around him with the sheer power of sound.

Megatron was silent, but the ruddy glow in his eyes had fastened onto Prowl. A cold, thoughtful smile shifted itself onto the angles of the Decepticon leader's jaw. Long strides of deliberation carried the huge grey mech forward until his feet broke the edge of the pool. Thick with bacterial froth and fragments of rust, the water licked slavishly at the tips of Megatron's toes before it twined around them in scummy adoration.

The barrel of his plasma cannon lifted. With exaggerated care, the Decepticon leader sighted down his arm, aligning the massive weapon on the center of the fuel-spattered ruin of Prowl's chest.

Eagerly, the surrounding Decepticons sucked in a collective draw of air past their intakes. One by one, they broke off their individual conversations of boredom, becoming attentive as Megatron pointed death towards Prowl.

Starscream eyed his leader, then the rust-streaked dam. Optics roving warily over the crumbling concrete, he took a step back up the embankment.

"You're going to shoot him?" he muttered, wing flaps flicking restlessly, as if the wedges of metal were urging him to loft himself into the air.

Megatron didn't even glance back. "Why not?"

"You'll blow right through the dam!"

"Why would that matter?"

"It'll collapse," Starscream warned, eyeing the unkempt span.

"Why does that matter? You can fly, can't you?"

With a chuckle, Megatron's hand slid back into his wrist, metal scraping along metal with the tone of a sword being slid back into a steel scabbard. A humming noise echoed from within his plating; and then there was the clink of chains, the hum of energy, and then the glowing mace twisted itself out of his arm, spiked ball falling down to swing in tight circles of pent up rage.

"I'm not going to shoot him," he said. "Not because of your fear of getting your precious feet wet, Starscream, but because it will give me great satisfaction to crush his head with my bare hands."

"You're using a mace," Starscream sneered as he crossed his arms and shifted his weight enough to allow a jet of flame to burst out the back of his heel.

Megatron laughed as he swung the weapon over his head. Immediately, Starscream took a step back, giving ground to the dangerous circumference of the ball and the chain. One spike barely cleared the curve of the cockpit in the center of his chest before the Decepticon leader whipped it around and slashed at the air right in front of Starscream's optics. This time, the jet mech cringed and leapt back, spitting out a curse when the gaggle of watching Decepticons echoed their leader's mirth.

"That I am," the grey mech agreed, rubbing his chin in a thoughtful way as he lazily continued to swing the weapon in a deadly circle in front of him as he admired the purple trail of light it left behind its passing. With a push of his foot, he lifted his grey bulk silently into the air and hovered over the water.

"Oh just kill him already," Starscream snapped, tossing his head. A dark stain in the grey sky caught his attention for a moment; he didn't bother to continue to glance up. He knew the energy signature by heart, and dismissed it as Skywarp teleporting in at the edge of his range before he made the final jump back to the group. _Well, at least I won't have to listen to him whine for days about how he missed the party. _

Megatron gathered himself and erupted upwards, water spraying up in arcs from the force of his passing. Over his head, the mace continued to whistle, brutally slapping the wet air aside he approached Prowl.

When the Decepticon leader was within striking distance, the shriek of the flailing chain seemed to cut through the Autobot's stupor of pain and exhaustion. Slowly, the injured Autobot lifted his head. One optic had completely stopped working, and the faded glass was as dull as death. The other was a feeble pinpoint of light. The ruin of his left door strut twitched, drawing a trickle of feeble sparks behind it as it ground against the side of the dam. As his weight shifted, the concrete behind him let out a deep rattling groan as the binders on his wrist suddenly supported the full tonnage of his body. Grey dust spat out from the support pegs, drifting across his shoulders and the side of his face.

Megatron hovered, the murky water inches from his massive feet. Grungy froth flecked itself across his ankles and dripped off of the ends of his toes.

"Any last words you'd like me to relay to Prime?" the Decepticon leader offered magnanimously, voice booming over the water to include his troops in the humor as he swept his free arm to one side. "Please. Feel free to speak."

The tactician lifted his head and nearly choked before he gurgled up an ugly slurry of fuel and metal shavings.

Megatron feigned a look of concern.

"What, does the cat have your tongue? Or is it in shreds down the back of your throat? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, seeing how many other parts you're missing after you met his proton bomb."

Howls of laughter echoed off the face of the dam; the rest of the Decepticons were now ringing the shoreline. Knowing they weren't invited into the range of their leader's moment of triumph, they thronged at the water's edge, eagerly slamming their elbows into sleek, polished flanks like a group of demented bridesmaids awaiting the final lines of the ceremony as they jostled for position. Prowl's failing eyesight could barely make them out individually; he recognized Starscream of course, standing off to the side, arms crossed haughtily, and beside him stood the ramrod straight, deep blue box of Soundwave, flanked by Rumble and Frenzy. Behind them were Thundercracker, Dirge, and the oh so unflattering lime green and violet blur of the Constructicons, but...

The rest were only garish colors, jumbled into a faceless morass of metal and delighted, cackling laughter, waiting impatiently for the moment when Prowl's head would leave his shoulders and rise into the air. It would become merely a gristly trophy ready to be caught in a mad scrabble of metal and passed overhand from one mech to the rest; a fragrant if gruesome bouquet of dripping fuel and black, crisped wires.

Megatron cleared his throat as he swung the mace closer and closer to Prowl's face. Each pass bridged the spikes closer between the tactician's cheek and the massive weapon until they were millimeters from his nose. If the Autobot flinched, if he coughed, if the crumbling concrete caused him to slip in the slightest, the mace would embed itself into his head with a crushing blow. The Autobot had seen it happen millions of years ago, back in the Arena, and he'd watched Megatron with the dawning realization that most of the shrieking patrons of the games standing next to him had no idea what was taking place down below...

No, most of them hadn't understood that they were watching a mech whose cruelty was seeped with so much charisma that he could drive a weapon into the back of an innocent mech with one hand and then make everyone around him believe he'd done it for the greater good of Cybertron. Until Megatron controlled nearly all of the cities and crushed anyone who opposed his reign under the strides of his vast army. Then they started realizing exactly what they'd trap they'd been led into. But by then, it had been too late.

"Again. I ask you. Any last words?"

Prowl glanced past the blur of the mace, searching the shoreline, his one good optic fighting to keep his focus steady in between each pass of the weapon. Megatron's hand rotated faster and faster; the weapon's promise roared in his audios, the whirr and whistle stabbing into broken transmission pathways and causing the tactician so much pain that he was forced to shutter his optics and concentrate on keeping conscious before he found what he was searching for...

He cleared his throat and pushed a gob of black liquid past his lips, careful not to spit it anywhere towards Megatron's direction.

"Y-yes," he said quietly.

"Well?"

Slowly, Prowl reopened his working optic. A sliver of blue shone out, glowing with mirth as a faint smile drifted to the corner of his mouth. The mace was shrieking with speed now, chain rattling, glowing so bright it burned a brilliant lavender line into the darkening grey sky above the massive, shadowy bulk of the Decepticon.

"Just this. I can... always count... on the... illogical and foolhardy behavior of my friends."

Sound smashed around the basin with the echo of a huge truck hitting a metal traffic pole head on. The mace slammed into the concrete of the dam, imbedded deep, and the chain quivered taunt before it snapped in two and broken links sprayed up the side of Glines, missing Prowl's head by mere inches, nearly stapling the corner of his chevron back along with the rest of him. Water exploded upwards, churned into greasy froth as Megatron's body disappeared, driven down to the bottom of the lake.

Dumbfounded, the Decepticons on the shore had one long second while their processors informed them that they were in fact seeing exactly what they thought they were seeing.

Within that second Skywarp finally teleported over them, tearing apart the air into a tattered banner of black and violet. _"Autobots!" _he roared. _"Incoming!" _

The dark jet's warning was lost in the ensuing explosion as a missile hissed its way down into the center of the Decepticons and exploded into a sheet of flame. Frenzy and Rumble careened into the air, legs and arms pinwheeling frantically before they crashed into the water. Soundwave stepped easily aside as another barrage exploded nearby, knocking Dirge and Thundercracker off of their feet. The brunt of missile's force blew Mixmaster's left leg off of his body. Immediately Long Haul and Scavenger grabbed his arms and took off running, dragging him along the ground and out of range as Bonecrusher, Hook, and Scrapper returned fire at the Autobots charging towards them.

Thundercracker heaved himself standing just as Windcharger lifted his hands over his head. Mixmaster's leg lifted off of the ground on its own accord and kicked the blue Decepticon right in the skidplate, knocking him over on top of Dirge, who'd just started to scramble upright.

"That's giving him the boot!" Trailbreaker laughed, giving the red Autobot a thumbs up.

Windcharger grinned back and swept his hand around to use the detached leg on Soundwave, but the boxy blue mech merely eyed him and showed no emotion. Casually, he raised one hand, and suddenly Rumble and Frenzy were immediately front of him, plating still hissing with steam.

Frenzy whirled to face Windcharger.

Optic band shining red with battle lust, the small mech opened his mouth and shrieked out a challenge as the drums in his chest spun in frantic counterpoint. Windcharger changed tactics like a pitch-hitter faced with the bases loaded and a fly ball; he struck out with the the limb towards the smaller robot; it got within ten feet before it faced the full onslaught of Frenzy's power and was torn apart into shards of garish green and purple that rained down like metal confetti around the area as Windcharger dropped his magnetic field.

"Lovely," Scrapper muttered to Hook, backing up as he narrowly avoided a burst of laser fire. "Frenzy the idiot has just blown apart Mixmaster's leg."

"Oh, just grand, grand," the other Constructicon groused back, ducking as Thrust went roaring into the sky, landing gear barely missing the side of his head. "You know what this means, of course."

"We won't be forming Devastator when Megatron bellows?"

"Well yes. But worse, his linkage module was completely torn off of him with that hit. It will be weeks before we can calibrate all of our systems back so we can combine."

Scrapper sighed. "I suppose we could think of it as a vacation."

"Hmm, that's much better than thinking of all of the repairs to come," Hook agreed.

"Exactly."

Bluestreak, still chasing down the hill after Hound and Ironhide, swept his rifle up and over his arm to steady it, digging his heels into the ground for a split second. There was a bright flash from the muzzle of his gun; a crackle of azure energy as the projectile launched itself in front of him, whizzing inches from the nose of a startled Thundercracker, who'd finally managed to scramble upright. It found its mark and thunked deep into Starscream's shoulder, where it promptly exploded.

With a shriek of pain, the mech clapped his hand over the open wound, then whirled and threw himself into the air, already transforming into his jet mode as he roared up and over the edge of the canyon just as the rest of the moss covered rocks on the bottom of Glines shifted up into a charging wave of brightly colored Autobots.

Hidden previously by both Hound's holographic talents and both Blaster's and Windcharger's abilities of sonic and sensor disruption, they'd also relied heavily on the fact the Decepticons were concentrating so much on the scene in front of them. It had worked.

"_The Autobots are here!"_ he cried into the airwaves.

"_That's what I said!" _Skywarp yelled back.

"_You should have said it sooner, you idiot!"_

Megatron's head broke the water with a roar of fury. One of Prime's arms was wrapped around his throat, the other had a death grip on the Decepticon leader's cannon barrel. The weapon was full of water, and twisted to the sky. It bubbled like a geyser, spouting useless steam into the air with each clench of Megatron's fingers.

"Decepticons," the grey mech bellowed, thrashing like an iron reptile in Optimus' grip, "to the air! Return fire!"

Prowl eyed the struggle before him as he sagged against his bonds._ "Logic dictates that mounting a rescue mission for one individual is foolish," _he transmitted weakly as he shoved all of his remaining power into his communication systems in the hope that Prime could hear him.

"_Yes... But logic gets tossed aside sometimes when it comes to friendship. Good to see you're still alive."_

"_It's good to see you as well, Prime."_

The Autobot leader laughed before Megatron's struggles dragged him down once again into the depths of the lake, sluggish waters churning into a whirlpool for the first time in years.

An explosion rocked the area, instantly sizzling the misty air hot and dry. The cinder laden wind whipped upwards, carrying with it a cloud of searing smoke towards the left side of Glines where the moss covered stones jutted out from the wall, shadowed by the dam itself.

The flicker of a thoughtful amber optic was followed by Ravage rising to his feet. He stretched and shook himself from nose to side missile. Head slung between his shoulders, he glanced up and down the canyon before he turned and gathered himself. Springing upward, his low-slung flanks arched as he touched lightly off each rock in turn, leaping from shadow to shadow, using the darkness to veil his ascent.

At the top of the canyon, he curled his forelimb underneath his chest and stood still, observing the row of Autobots on the ridge.

_Well, well... they've flanked us, half down there, the rest up here waiting to pick us off as we take to the air. One might have hoped without Prowl's help that they might have fallen tactically short._

A slight odor of fuel caught his attention, but that wasn't what held it. No, it was another scent, muted by time and distance; his sensor arrays picked up on it immediately and placed it for what it was, metallic scurf that had followed a struggle, transferred from one mechanical body to another.

_The girl, and... _

Ravage froze, haunches gathering underneath him as his head turned from side to side. There. One drop of half-processed fuel, spattered on a half-buried stone. A few inches away was another drop, and then his nose led him upwards from that until he saw a black sliver in the foliage about ten feet up from the spatters.

A burst of light seared into his optic sensors. The cat recoiled with a hiss of pain, jaws snapping wildly at nothing, completely disorientated. One paw swiped itself over his eyes as if to block out the horridly painful intrusion into the back of his metal skull as the missiles on his flanks raised automatically and trained themselves on the waver in the leaves. Even before the weapons had fully cleared the curve of his shoulders, there was the cough of a hunting rifle. Ravage staggered back a few meters, paws crossing over each other gracelessly as his hindquarters sagged from one side to the other and then lopsidedly collapsed underneath him, his weaponry rendered completely useless.

Mirage materialized, his body slowly painting itself into view. His rifle was held one-handed, but the barrel didn't move as it trained itself on a spot between the Decepticon's golden eyes.

"Don't move, Ravage."

The dark cat's ears flattened ruefully back. Slowly, he lowered his head between his paws and let a sigh seep out of his mouth. "You have me at a disadvantage," he agreed.

Mirage's hands twisted out a length of filament wire from a compartment in his wrist. One loop casually tossed itself over the animal's nose; he flicked his wrist and pulled hard, clamping the Decepticon's jaws shut before he approached.

"And you'll stay at one, if I have anything to say about it."

Ravage chuckled quietly as the Autobot knelt down to loop the wire around each black limb in turn. His paws flexed on the earth, and the moss on the stones beneath him tore back, leaving deep gashes that oozed an inky, sticky substance.

"I would expect no less," the Decepticon rumbled politely, the words forming deep in his throat and drifting past the tiny gaps his fangs provided. However, his slanted yellow optics were brittle and cold. His tail slashed angrily at the earth as he sucked drafts of air through his intakes, whistling softly in a high-pitched echo of discomfort.

His gaze sidled to the mark on the white mech's hand.

"You should get that nasty little nip looked after, Mirage," he advised, his muffled voice silky and sly. There was no true concern in his statement, in fact, it sounded as if the black beast was laughing to himself, delighted at the Autobot's small injury. "Things like that have a terrible tendency to go septic and rust out, don't they?"

Mirage glanced down at his hand, then shrugged.

"I don't think you should worry about me," he grunted as he pulled the lines together tightly and finished hogtying the cat. Quickly, he stood up, dusting off each hand in turn on his thighs. He'd never set his gun down the whole time, palming it from one hand to the other. "Worry about yourself. I'll be back for you later."

With that, the Autobot quickly slid his foot under Ravage's flank and kicked the Decepticon deep into the undergrowth.

* * *

Dart's fuel pump was surging so hard she felt as if it was going to rip itself out of her chest as she headed for the edge of the woods. Flattened out, still sprinting, she bolted through a patch of blackberry vines. They wrapped around her leg, but her speed ripped the weeds out of the earth and lashed them back against her plating, the long thorns furiously scratching out their useless punishment against metal. Without breaking stride, she kicked the vine off to one side and dodged another patch that bristled up in her vision, anticipating the challenge put forth by a running robot brush mower.

The last of the tree-line shot by in the corner of her eye and she dashed out on exposed ground.

Less than fifty feet above her head, the black underbelly of a jet slashed the air apart. She yelped, and flung herself back under the edge of the trees as it roared by. Skywarp's engines blared out his distress as he rolled and thrashed in the sky, trailing a long spiral of oily smoke behind him. Once again, Sideswipe was braced behind his cockpit, whistling happily as he slammed a pile-driver cheerfully into the Decepticon's plating.

"Don't you _ever_ give up?!" Skywarp howled. The two machines slammed into the ground less than fifty yards from where Dart crouched, the jet's wing bent back at a painfully awkward angle. Skywarp transformed, and Sideswipe wrapped himself around the Decepticon's throat as he twisted the taller mech's head back. Skywarp grunted and kicked sideways, dragging the other mech with him along the torn up ground.

_Whoa. I'm actually agreeing with Skywarp... well, that's a first, isn't it? _

"_Agreeing with who?!" _

"Huh?" Dart said out loud. Usually, when she talked to herself, it didn't sound quite so - er, screechy. Maybe some tuner component had been knocked loose with the struggle with the Autobot earlier...

"_Your internal comm!" _

Whoops. Hopefully she'd hadn't said that screechy part out loud.

"_Oh! Sorry, I forgot... oh, no, I totally forgot about it. I didn't remember the comm link, I didn't call - I forgot it, Starscream, the Autobots know we're here."_

"_I can see that!" _

Starscream's shrill retort caused Dart to wince and duck back a few steps into the brush.

"_Right," _she replied, watching as Skywarp threw himself over backwards, using his full weight to crack Sideswipe's head against the ground.

"_Listen to me! I want you to–" _

Jet engines roared overhead again, drowning the mech's words in decibel; this time it was Thundercracker and Dirge, passing so close to the earth that Dart could count every single rivet in their plating. As they swept by, sound battered itself against her sensors; the timbre of Dirge's engines sent chills up and down the courier's relay circuitry. Spoiler stiff and still across her shoulders, she fought to get air into her cooling systems. What she wanted to do was bolt, turn and fling herself back the way she'd come, but the sonically induced terror surged in waves, battering her first from one side and then the other. All she could manage though, was to stumble back a few steps, her fingers clutching the sides of her helm. Head twisting from side to side, Dart finally protested the onslaught of noise by throwing her nose at the sky, howling like a dog whose kennel was stationed directly underneath a tornado siren.

A hundred yards away, a red and white Autobot also shrieked counterpoint to the audile assault. Red Alert clapped his hands over his audio sensors and collapsed on the ground, shuddering. Beside him, Inferno immediately reached down and grabbed his friend's arm, attempting to heave him over his shoulders for a fireman's carry even while he continued to sight down his forearm to aim a missile at the jets.

In unison, the two planes bore down. Machine gun fire ripped chunks out of the ground, tore up green blossoms of turf; bullets struck sparks off the half buried stones. Scattering Autobots ducked and covered, then gathered themselves up and returned the attack, weapons spitting out bursts of color. Caught in the crossfire, Dirge executed a strange half-flip in the air, nose rising to the vertical as his engines both cut power and his flaps lowered. The terrible noise echoing through the area abruptly ceased as the plane pushed forward, angled as if it was a giant palm trying to give a signal to stop. The aileron struck by the projectile was now wreathed in tendrils of vomit-yellow gas; the substance slunk into every open gap it could find, curling tendrils of before it finally dissipated, revealing a brittle, shattered area on the edge of the Decepticon's wing.

Dirge crashed into the ground, nose cone crumpling. His landing gear snapped off; it whistled through the air a good two hundred feet before embedding itself into a large Douglas fir.

Starscream's shadow darkened the area as he ripped through the sky overhead. Cluster bombs scattered, blowing craters in the earth. Inferno took a direct hit, the greasy fireball of the explosion wreathing his plating, but he merely shook it off, grinning and flexing his fingers as he returned fire. The Air-Commander swooped easily out of range. In the meantime, Dirge managed to climb to his feet and stagger into the airweaving erratically from side to side as Thundercracker swept by again, his guns whirring with heat.

The sound of the landing gear's travel still lingered in Dart's audio sensors, but at least there was no longer the sound of Dirge's engines wracking out their bloodcurdling keen. Spoiler rattling, intakes heaving, she brought up her hand, fingers loosely curled, and pawed at the side of her helmet.

"_Dart?" _

The courier blinked, dropped her hand back to her side.

"_Ravage?" _

"_I need your help. Come." _

"_Where are you?"_

"_Getting a rather annoying view of the bushes on the north side of the dam, I'm afraid." _

"_Are you all right?" _

"_I would say not. Actually, I'm literally a bit tied up at the moment. And, I'd rather not spend my free time in the Ark's cell-bay. I'm sure you can relate."_

Dart winced, her spoiler lifting over her shoulders.

"_Yeah, sure can. I'm on my way," _

Ducking her head, she dived through the lattice of pine branches, already zig-zagging from side to side before she bolted across the open space. Bullets whizzed past her flank, buzzing like furious hornets; she dove and twisted, fully expecting at any moment to be trying out a new method of cooling her internal systems. The sort where the wind whistled through great big holes in your chest.

Skywarp finally had shaken off Sideswipe, and the Decepticon was now rolling to his feet. Sighting down the rifle on his arm, his lips pulled back, offering his opponent an ugly sneer of triumph. The Autobot was fighting for his feet as well, doors digging ruts in the moist earth as he reached for his own weapon, but Skywarp had gotten the draw on him. As of this moment, the Decepticon had a perfect bead on Sideswipe's head, and no way that he was missing that shot.

Red Alert, now somewhat able to form a cohesive thought, was desperately trying to pick out the largest threats to the Autobots around him. His behavior was automatic; his systems were completely calibrated to focus in on anything with sudden sound or motion. Right now, a hundred different sensors were screaming warnings about both sky and ground; they couldn't decide what was more of a danger until the courier vaulted past Jazz and ended up within a body length of him.

Immediately, his rifle swung out to intercept her. Dart reared back, her processor registering the weapon in an odd sort of freeze-frame motion. Driving her heels into the earth, she changed direction with a perfect reining spin and plunged away from the Autobot. Red Alert squeezed off a shot, his finger pulling back so hard it jammed itself into the trigger guard. The blast narrowly missed the girl's calf and kicked up a spray of dirt.

Skywarp's outstretched arm appeared, blocking her path. The courier yelped and leaned forward as hard as she could, diving underneath his limb. She cleared his elbow easily, sliding aside with meters to spare.

Startled, the black mech clenched his fist, and his rifle obeyed his involuntary command. It clicked back into the safety mode.

"What the--"

That was exactly the extra second needed for Sunstreaker to get between Skywarp and his brother. Fist swinging, his knuckles slammed deep crescents into Skywarp's jaw. The Decepticon went down under the assault, cursing. Laughing, Sideswipe gathered himself up, spat out a greasy mouthful of fuel into the dirt, and then eagerly leapt back into the fray.

Water frothed up, swirling counter clockwise like foam on a bucket of fresh milk. Prime's head broke the surface of the lake again; he'd managed to fight his way back up from the stony bottom, pulling Megatron after him. Silt and sand swirled in the water as the Autobot leader scissored his legs, treading to keep himself at the surface. Megatron's elbow lashed viciously towards his faceplate; Prime managed to duck, countering the strike with an uppercut that sent the grey mech arching skyward in a similar arc to the hapless trout that had met up with Sideswipe earlier.

Somehow, Megatron managed to heave himself up into the air right before he crashed back into the water. With a snarling, dismissive glance at his opponent, he flung himself upward, flying towards the top of the dam.

Prime wiped the water out of his optics and glanced over his shoulder.

"Prowl?" he called.

No answer to his query came from the mech on the dam. Immediately, Prime turned, swam half a stroke towards him. The tactician was sagging against his bonds again, head sunk against his chest. Even the bare strut of his damaged door hung low, peeking out from behind his back. Even from where he was, Prime could see that the face of the dam wall was crumbling and cracking away from the load points. He was amazed it had held together this long and that Prowl hadn't tumbled into the water... or worse, that the dam had given way.

Luck was on his side so far, but Prime knew better than to trust it completely.

Static crackled into his audio receivers. For a brief moment, he thought might be Prowl. It wasn't. Ironhide's drawl smoothed its way onto his comm-link.

"_Prime? You okay?"_

"_I'm fine. Prowl isn't. He needs Ratchet down here now." _

"_Megatron's just arrived up here. Won't be able to get Ratchet past until he's occupied... wait, well, now the twins are on him, but I don't think they'll hold him long." _

"_Stall him, I'll be there shortly. Tell Grapple to go with Ratchet as well- he needs to evaluate the safety of this dam. I'm not sure it's safe to remove him without additional support to the structure, but we have to get Prowl stabilized as soon as possible, or we are going to lose him." _

"_We haven't come this far to do that, Prime,"_ Ironhide replied. _"I'll send down Hound and Blue to cover and clear for them - most of these Decepticreeps are lickin' their wounds and on the run, but if Megatron looks like he's winnin' they're going to get enough courage between them to come back." _

"_That's the last thing we need right now." _

"_No kiddin'. So, let's send 'em packin'." _

"_Right." _

* * *

"I'm sorry. This thing's awfully tight."

Ravage pinned one ear back slightly as Dart struggled to unknot the filament from around his muzzle. Briefly, he shuttered his optic as a weedy stem scraped along the yellow glass. It snapped off, and he reopened it cautiously, half -lidded as he idily watched her fumble with the restraints. "Yes, well, you need to hurry, he'll be checking in to make sure I haven't moved."

"I'm trying, honest."

"You did remember that you carry a knife, correct?" he chuckled softly.

Fingers picking at the twisted loop of wire, Dart would have rolled an optic if she'd dared take it off of the forest around them. "Yes, but seeing uh, how I'm about as good with that knife as I am at remembering to use my comm link..."

The cat considered this as well. "Point taken."

Expecting at any minute to be ambushed by the invisible mech, the courier ducked her head and tried to focus all of her concentration on getting that wire off faster. As she muddled, the cord sprung back and sliced into the side of Ravage's jaw. The cat growled out a pneumatic-sounding complaint.

Dart winced in empathy and stuck her finger underneath the line, lifting it off of his jaw as she struggled to bend it back on itself. Ravage braced the rounded edge of his shoulder against the ground as she tugged and pulled; finally he wrenched his neck back. The wire snapped apart at the tie-off, the filament whipping around.

She flinched and ducked reflexively, but not fast enough. The wire unraveled, popped back, and lashed her across the ridge of her cheek. Dart swallowed a yelp, rubbing the back of her hand on her face where it had struck.

Ravage was already ripping at the bonds on his legs before she straightened up. His fangs caught the remaining wires; a few quick snaps of his jaws and he heaved himself onto his front legs. Hind paws limply hanging behind him, he dragged himself forward a stride length or two before he was able to stand. Splaying his legs, he swayed uncomfortably from side to side and dropped his head between his shoulders if the bombs on his flanks were dangerously close to toppling him over with their dull silver weight.

"Are you all right?" Dart asked him.

"I will be shortly."

Another explosion, this one closer than the others caused him to growl and shift his weight. The outline of the cat seemed to tug on itself, trying to pull his body into the leafy shadows of the underbrush. His flanks vanished into the background. Strangely, it left his head and hindquarters remaining, as if the cat was a magician's apprentice who had been sawn in half and was now quizzically peering at the place where their belly had wandered off to.

"This battle is going to end rather poorly," he told her, raising a paw as he sniffed in deep gulps of scent, eyeing the woods. So far, so good, Mirage was nowhere close by. He intended to keep it that way. Unless, of course he got a chance to detonate one of his bombs underneath the Autobot, in which case... he'd make an exception.

"I'd... I'd sort of figured that out," Dart winced.

Ravage swung his head to eye her with obvious amusement. "Good girl. Now, I'm sure you've figured out something else, which is; it is time for me to find cover, and I would suggest you do the same."

"Yes sir," she said. Without thinking, she brought up her hand and touched her brow in a quick salute.

Satisfied, the cat flicked an ear back, nodded, and vanished into the undergrowth.

Thundercracker's wings twitched in silent agony. Well, one did. The other was hanging askew, attached only by a strut that was slimed from one shattered end to the other in black fluid. The mech groaned, biting his lip as he braced himself on his hands and knees. He shook his head from side to side, spattering fuel.

Okay, that had hurt. Crashing was not high on his list of ways to stop suddenly as an aircraft.

Now as he looked up, he realized that Brawn was charging towards him, winding up his fist like a pitcher ready to throw a serious fastball.

Okay, this was going to hurt even more.

The jet mech's fingers snatched at the earth to anchor himself as he braced himself for the hit. Not that it was going to matter, he knew he'd go flying. Brawn punched like a freight train. Correction, he'd seen things hit by freight trains, mostly stupid humans on the evening news. Brawn's fists passed those results off as a minor fender-bender. Thundercracker's made the appropriate, anticipatory wince as his mind sunnily predicted the pain to follow. The blow would crash into his chin, smash into his side, dent and tear his plating. If he was lucky it wouldn't damage anything internal, but hey, he was never that lucky in these situations.

Fast, sudden motion in the corner of his vision grabbed his attention. Great, right on time, here went his luck... wait, no, it was just the courier, jittering nearby as if she didn't know which way to run, ducking under her forearm as a rocket whistled overhead.

On a high note, she wasn't a Dinobot, and probably wouldn't stomp on him for good measure after he was flattened by Brawn... so that was sort of lucky, he supposed.

The Decepticon shuttered his optics, awaiting the crunch of metal.

Slowly, after the silence had gone past expectation, he allowed himself to creak open one optic. Amazingly enough, neither he nor Dart hadn't been punched into one of the nearby pines; she was still standing there and looking at him. Her brow lifted in confusion and what appeared to be a bit of concern. Brawn was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, wait, what– where'd he go?"

"Who?"

"The Autobot," Thundercracker said as he pushed his palms into the damp soil beneath him. Dirt oozed up from between his fingers and crumbled into the gaps in his joints as he rocked back onto his knees. He turned his head to the left and then to the right, eyeing the area around them. "The guy that was right here, going to punch my lights out."

"Actually, uh... he turned off and ran the other way. You okay?"

"Well, better now that Brawn's fist isn't going to be imbedded in my face," he grunted. "Wonder what's going on, because I sure didn't scare him off. And we're not even going to even go there about you, ha ha. He ran the other way, huh? Wonder what's up with that?"

"I have no idea, he just - oh, whoa."

"Whoa?" Thundercracker echoed. "What's the ... oh, that whoa."

Megatron had landed less than a hundred and fifty yards away from them. Water poured out of every gap in his plating, and the ground around his feet had already churned into thick black mud. Several Autobots had warily surrounded him and were feinting in at the massive mech.

Steam curled off of the Decepticon leader's body, winding around his legs in heated, twisting columns of vapor. Right fist clenched into a hammer of rage, he smashed Sideswipe into the air with a ferocious uppercut, and the Autobot sailed through the air before crashing head-first into a boulder. The red mech convulsed twice, his heels drumming up splotches of mud before he went deathly still, slumping off to one side.

Snarling, Sunstreaker flung himself on Megatron's back. His arm locked around the Decepticon leader's throat as yellow fingers clawed at the grey mech's shoulders and sliced off deep curlicues of torn metal. Immediately, Megatron snapped himself around, swiveling on his hips, and grabbed Sunstreaker, his palm engulfing the top of the Autobot's helmet as he wrenched the mech off of his back. Sunstreaker's hands and heels drew long lines of sparks as the two metal bodies scraped against each other.

Holding him at arm's length, Megatron let the mech dangle there for a second, watching with cold interest as Sunstreaker's hands clenched and fumbled at his massive forearm. Then, with an ugly, calculating smile, the Decepticon brought his free arm up, centering Sunstreaker's chest dead center in the barrel of his fusion cannon. His fingers tightened as the Autobot struck out; the yellow mech's feet slammed deep dents into Megatron's shin.

A foaming jet of superheated water flung itself out of Megatron's weapon. It struck Sunstreaker with such force that it caused the Decepticon leader to lose his vice-grip on his victim; the Autobot went flailing back across the clearing and cracked into the ground, tumbling over and over until he came to rest near his brother. Megatron shook out his hand with a baleful glare. It betrayed the fact that he'd fully expected Sunstreaker's head and torso to be vaporized, not just pressure washed.

Brawn took that opportunity to plunge forward, slamming his shoulder in a linebacker's tackle into Megatron's knee joint. The massive mech didn't move even an inch. Annoyed, Megatron only glanced down at the clinging, punching Autobot before he casually flipped the edge of his toe underneath the green mech's flank.

A moment later, Brawn was sailing through the air, propelled by the sort of dismissive kick that mailmen gave tiny, yapping dogs.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had shaken themselves to their feet. They stood side by side; the red mech had one hand pressed to his flank. Sunstreaker turned and spit out a mouthful of blue-green fluid, then slowly wiped his lips clean with the back of his hand. Silently intent, the twins watched Megatron, warm air slipping out of their intakes. It turned to mist, drifting slowly upward as the two robots eyed the Decepticon leader.

Megatron surveyed them in turn, simmering with rage. The barrel of the fusion cannon sizzled as water droplets danced along its length and rolled off the lip of the weapon and pattered against the leaves of the crushed vegetation around him.

These two could do nothing, the Decepticon knew. Actually, all of the Autobots slinking around him like cowardly turbo-foxes waiting for scraps could do nothing to him. Not even if the whole craven lot of them managed to dredge up enough courage between them to charge. He doubted they would. Who, the yellow spy? Or the old red braggart who was hauling Brawn to his feet? No, none of them. Not the black one, the orange one, or the green, barrel chested one. Oh, yes, here and there they might get in a lucky blow, but hurt him? Not really. Destroy him? Laughable.

Black fingers knotted into a fist again. The fusion cannon gargled and gurgled. Immediately, his targeting systems lined out a damage reminder in the corner of his optic, the coded system specifications glowing red as they looped past. Both the deuterium and the tritium gas chambers entwined within had been breached; tiny hairline fractures spiraled within the chambers. What hadn't escaped was no longer enough to be compressed within the cannon's series of snap-valves for the explosion. All the weapon was able to do was strobe x-rays back and forth inside the charging area of the reaction chamber; the remaining sludge within slurped and boiled like a mudpot.

Ironhide's optics narrowed.

"All we want is Prowl, Bucket-Head."

The Decepticon leader parried the old mech's demands with a poisonous smile. "That's all you wanted? Well, why didn't you say so?"

"Just did."

Megatron's hand swept out in a magnanimous gesture. "Go pry your tactician's body off the dam, then."

There was a darkly collective mutter from the Autobots. Someone offered to pry Megatron's head loose from his shoulders with a rusty screwdriver. Someone else said they'd rather be doing it with their bare hands.

Ironhide chuckled at Megatron and rocked slowly back on his heels. "Workin' on it. Hey, figure since you've offered us advice, be a right polite thing for me to do the same. Might as well yell 'retreat' right now. Save you some time later."

"I never retreat."

"Huh. Could've fooled all of us."

Megatron flexed his fingers into the shape of Ironhide's throat. His knees bent, the gears in his legs creaking and clicking as he brooded down, nesting into his fury as he pinpointed where his fist would strike the old robot.

One hit would flatten the ancient mech to the ground. After that, he'd lift a foot, and slowly allow his weight to crush down, feeling the pressure change as the helm changed shape and flattened. It was something Megatron had always reveled in; the creak of a jaw twisting on itself, overwhelmed by weight, the death-rattle as intakes closed off, and finally, the pop of an optic as the glass warped and flew across the ground.

It was a delicious moment, and one he'd savor right now to the fullest extent.

With a bellow that shattered off the surrounding mechs, the Decepticon swung his arm back and lunged.

Highbeams flashed, accompanied by the answering challenge of a massive engine as the Autobots in front of Megatron fanned out in a controlled scatter.

Prime's blunt-nosed automotive mode had hurtled over the edge of the ravine, executing a jump more often relayed in cheesy car movies by tiny scale models and thin wires. As he hit the ground, his huge front tires smashed down nearly flat under the weight, deep tread bulging like the veins of a flexing bodybuilder. Prime's rear axle bounced off on the ground, lightened by a lack of trailer, but he was completely in control of himself, spraying crushed grass and loam behind him as he charged forward. The front grille of the truck aligned on the grey form of Megatron towering over the surrounding Autobots. Headlights brightened, then the inset beam narrowed into glowing slits, exhaust billowing out of the twin stacks on either side of the cab.

Gleaming chrome reflected a hundred different reflective views of the two robots closest to his path; one kneeling, the other with her hand outstretched. Thundercracker stared up into a panorama of churning tires and immense truck. He immediately decided not to bother with any extra help from Dart about getting to his feet. Instead, the jet-mech scrabbled on the ground, flailing like a hamster on a greasy exercise wheel before he stuffed his legs under himself and managed to claw his way into the air. He wobbled over the low pines as his engines listed him back and forth like a ship helmed by a drunk captain.

"Get out of here!" he yelled at Dart.

Overwhelmed by sheer noise and fury, Dart's fingers were still outstretched to help up a mech that was no longer there. Instead, she was now staring up into the flare of the oncoming truck's lights. The blue glass of her eyes was as frozen as her stance.

Prime's horn blasted a warning.

Sound tore towards the girl and bounced off the service towers of the concrete structure behind her. It assaulted her audios and swept away her awe at the hurtling wall of steel and chrome.Sense took over where sensors had failed, and Dart did what any other intelligent, sensible being would have done under the circumstances.

Whirling in a blossom of dirt, the courier bolted past the truck, so close that his mirror nearly clipped her side as she hightailed it for the edge of the dam. Prime's horn echoed again, muted by her speed, but she didn't even look back as she frantically hurtled over the edge of the sharp embankment. Her knees buckled under the weight of her body as she landed hard on the slope. Immediately, she tossed her head back and drove heels down, fighting in an attempt to keep from flying head over heels. Somehow, she managed to keep her balance, leaping awkwardly as she slid downwards in a spray of soil and rumbling stone.

Gravity dragged her down the incline. It then shoved her into the scattered trees and brambles on the bottom with all of the leggy, graceless, flailing panic of a mule on a water slide as the boom of metal on metal echoed down from above.

Crouched in the brush, she flattened against the rough rock of the carved back wall. The weight of her body pressed water from the thick moss layering the stone. It dripped down the curve of her spoiler and down her back, trickling down to the small of her back. Dart squirmed; the sensation on her plating was as unbearable and ticklish as a hard sweat. She started to twist to wipe off the moisture with the back of her hand, but went instantly still as attention was abruptly riveted by a rattling cascade of pebbles and soil rolling down the path she'd bounded up earlier.

At first the courier wondered if it was a rabbit or an animal panicked by the heated battle above, one that had wisely decided like her that it was better to take chances of breaking its neck on the steep terrain rather than be blown up or stomped on.

A flash of silver metal was followed by a very familiar smell, bringing with it scent-induced memories of dripping water and Doublemint gum.

Hound and Bluestreak were hurriedly picking their way down the cliff, following the awkward, zig-zagging angles between the twisted, scraggly trees and the slick, weed-draped shelves of stone. The outcropping of decaying concrete shielded them from the observation of those fighting above.

Worried, Dart watched the scout lean back on his heels to keep himself steady in his decent to the base of Glines. Hopefully, no one would spot her where she hid- she was on the other side of the area they were coming down into. Biting her lip, she eyed the escape routes, and realized with a sinking feeling that most of the ones she could probably scale up quickly were on the side where they were coming down. _Great. I avoid getting hit by a semi, but stand a good chance of getting shot again, instead. Okay, I need to start thinking faster and running slower... or something._

It was quickly obvious that the green Autobot was familiar with negotiating rough terrain, however, his companion was having problems. The gunner slid to his knees at least twice, leaving long ruts behind him in the dirt. Even though he hopped and dropped like a silver fish bobber, the rifle in his hands remained steady and perfectly level, the barrel pointing out to cover a cone of area in front of Hound and himself.

Scraggly plants slapped against the Autobot's shins, leaving rusty smears of spores on metal as they finally achieved the rocky base. Dart got a sharp whiff of crushed fern; it smelled like a bag of licorice left on a car seat in the hot sun.

"_What's the best point to take for you to cover, Blue?" _Hound asked, his comm-link hissing with static.

"_Are you going to get to him from the water?" _

"_Yeah, that's probably the quickest route. I could get over those rocks fast but you guys would have some problems..." _

"_That works. I can cover all of you guys and the top of the dam, I mean, it's not a problem, clear shot no matter what it is, would rather shoot up into the open though, not that I'm not good enough to shoot in the brush but it's clear so far and hopefully it will stay that way–"_

"_Don't you dare take a chance of a stray shot angling near that dam until I see exactly what is going on from ground level," _Grapple interceded, quickly chopping the sails out of Bluestreak's ramble.

"_Calm down," _Ratchet grumbled as he heaved his leg over the concrete retaining wall and followed down after the orange mech. _"The only stray thing hitting that dam might be you if you don't look where you're doing on this hill."_

Hound chuckled. _"Don't worry. I don't think any of us want to take a chance on hitting Prowl or collapsing this dam. One second, we're at the lake. My scans say the deepest part of the area is right in front of us. I'm going to see what's the easiest way for you guys to get in, and make sure there's no sharks, Decepticon or otherwise."_

"_Have fun swimming,"_ Bluestreak interjected, switching to a private frequency to tease his friend.

"_Swimming? Wait, who said anything about swimming?" _

"_Well, how else are you going to get there?"_

"_Hmm. I was going to ask if I could borrow your surfboard," _Hound laughed as he slipped into the foam-encrusted water, using his the tips of his feet to feel the way before him. Slick with algae, the river rock underneath him shifted treacherously, and he spread his hands to the side for balance.

Bluestreak shook his head, flashing a sheepish gaze out from under the planes of his chevron as he eyed the air above the dam before quickly scanning over the spot where Ratchet and Grapple were inching downward.

"_What is it going to take for me to get you to never mention that ever again?" _

"_Oh, way more than you have, trust me," _Hound replied, continuing to wade forward. _"All right. I'm heading out. Got my back?" _

"_Yeah... Hound?" _

"_What?"_

"_Do -do you think he's still alive? Prowl, I mean." _

Hound continued forward, the water splashing up over his hips as he made his way forward, easing himself into the depths of the lake. His foot left the bottom of the bed for a moment, and he kicked, easily sending himself forward, swimming easily and naturally through the water. Briefly, he frowned, but shook the expression off and replaced it with his typical expression; an easy, hopeful smile.

"_Sure. Prowl's tough." _

"_But... but, he's not answering me. I keep trying to call him, and he's not answering, Hound. I mean, what if he's... I mean, we've gotten this far, and he's dead on that dam? I mean, what if, not that he's dead, because we don't know he's dead, but what if he is, what do we do, what are we going to do?" _

"_Bluestreak?" _

The gunner hesitated. _"Yeah?" _

"_I'm going to need that surfboard after all. You don't happen to have it handy, do you?" _

"_Uh. No." _

"_Darn. Guess I'll have to continue to swim it. Keep an eye on the air; there's nothing in the water reading anything, but if the Decepticons see me or the others getting close, they might decide it's worth a last-ditch cluster bomb to kill a whole bunch of birds with a big concrete wall." _

"_I've got it covered." _

Grapple and Ratchet soon reached the gunner's sideBluestreak was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, rifle sweeping the sky over and over. Grapple eyed the scummy edge of the water with obvious distaste. Ratchet, however, had already started to wade out into it. His gaze slipped around the scout in the distance, now standing beside Prowl, and concentrated on the mangled form of the tactician hanging off the dam. The medic lowered his head, fury spilling out from under the red slash of his chevron.

"_Hound? Any traps, or are we clear to come in?" _

"_None. You're clear. I've scanned and double checked the whole area just to make sure. But... I think you guys need to get over here, fast. Just follow the path I came in on - the rocks are pretty stable, and it's the least amount of swimming." _

"_Right. We're on our way." _

"This structure is worse than I thought," Grapple groaned as he splashed in next to Ratchet. Cold water seeped into his knee joints, and he fretted at it with his hand. The last thing he needed was silt in there; he already had enough problems with his systems not liking the grit Earth deposited within the gaps of his plating at every opportunity. "I've been taking multiple readings and I'm afraid-"

Ratchet lifted his hand and shoved it between them, palm flat. "Stop. Stop right there talking about it, and stop taking readings on it, already."

"I thought that was my job."

"It is. But quit being a pessimist."

"Goodness, I hope you're not comparing me to Red Alert."

"No. I said to quit being a pessimist, not a neurotic mass of circuitry."

The architect made a face as Ratchet's splashing sent a sheet of water up and over his chest. "Well, it's a structure in bad need of repairs. I wish we could have gotten Hoist to come down here; I can tell you how it was built and how that relates to the general deterioration it now has, but..."

"True. So, when we're done, how about you and I go chat to the Decepticons about shooting our damn engineer?"

Grapple actually managed a smile. "If I thought it would do any good, I would gladly go with you to do so. I think we'd be speaking because of different reasons, though."

"Damn straight we would. Do you know how long it's going to take me on his repairs?"

"Unfortunately, I feel I have at least a good idea. For the record, I would like to state that I warned him about engaging in close combat."

"Warn him better next time," Ratchet grunted as he kicked off the bottom and started to swim.

* * *

Pressure. 

Prowl could feel it on his shoulders. He struggled dully against the hands on him, listless and exhausted. He vaguely remembered that Prime had been there, or at least he thought he remembered that. Perhaps it was just something his mind had made up to help him accept the fact that he was deactivating, that the Decepticons were pinning him back up against the cold curve of concrete, pressing his injuries into the rust and the dirt, and that at any moment, his head would finally leave his shoulders.

The steady roar of the water pouring from the dam cut through his audios. Or maybe it wasn't that at all, but Megatron's mace, heavily thumping apart the air. He attempted to crack the shutter-plates over his optics, but the sliver of blue lens only revealed a world spinning with shadow, and then garish with bright and unnatural colors of orange, white, and red.

Was he moving? Flying? Was that sound of water or mace actually the snap of helicopter blades, slicing apart the air as they lifted him and pinned him to a dam? Wait, no, that had already happened, and that blur came from his own sensors, trying to compensate for so much damage.

Fingers fumbled at his wrist, jarring the naked strut that jabbed out of his back.

"Prowl? Come on, say something already. I've been here four minutes, the least you could do was answer me. Prowl?"

"R-Ratchet?"

"About time you woke up. I was starting to think you were faking because you didn't want to come back from your nice vacation with this fantastic view..." the medic grumped, but his voice was at odds with his wide, relieved smile.

"D-Decepticons?"

"Running with their tails between their legs," Hound supplied with a wry grin, carefully supporting the wounded strut gently on his palm.

"They... they've scattered, then?"

"Yep. Screaming out 'retreat,' as usual," Ratchet chuckled. "Hold still there. Grapple's almost done cutting you down."

Prowl barely had strength to nod. His words slowly picked through the choking pauses where he had to clear out the fluid pooling in the back of his throat. "Probably a good... idea. I'm amazed... that this dam... has held as long as it has. I think someone needs... to report its instability... I've had first hand experience, now. I'll volunteer to take my findings to the state..."

Ratchet looked up at him. "Wait, was that a joke?"

"Was it humorous? Wasn't meant... to be."

"Hmmph. Good, because for a minute there, I thought for sure they'd gotten Bombshell to stick a controller into your processor."

"No... of course not."

"Good. I was going to start grumbling about how much of a pain in the 'pipes it was going to be to get it out. I really want a break from med-bay."

"I am truly sorry for the inconvenience," Prowl apologized as his left wrist fell free. His arm slapped limply against the concrete wall behind him.

"Wonderful," the medic replied with a twitch of his upper lip. Carefully, he shifted his hands under Prowl's arms. "Hound, get under him, take some of the weight off of that last restraint, will you? I don't know if the left rotator in his shoulder can handle any more stress before it snaps, and I don't want to repair one more thing."

"Already there."

"Good job."

"This dam is in terrible shape," Grapple noted aloud as his hand traced a delicate crack in the straining concrete. Grey powder coated his fingertips. The crane arm on his back twitched as if what he wanted to be doing was repairing the damage. "Not surprising for a structure built in nineteen twenty seven and badly maintained. It's most definitely a good thing that it is scheduled for removal."

"As long as it holds until we get him off of it, I don't care what happens to it after."

"It should."

"Should?" Ratchet growled as he whipped around his head so fast to look at the architect that Hound was worried the medic would pop a relay cable in his neck. "Yes or no, give me a straight answer. I don't feel like treading more water on top of everything else today."

The orange mech flattened his palm slowly on the concrete. His fingertips spread, and he rubbed gentle circles on the rough material, as if he was pulling out the knowledge of the structure itself with the touch of his hand. "Yes. But I suggest we be quick about it. I'll need to continue to reinforce the wall as I pull out the restraint pins."

"Oh, even more wonderful."

On the shoreline, Bluestreak watched the huddle of Autobots, working on releasing Prowl, rifle still on point up towards the top of the dam. He'd nearly fired as the last of the jets went streaking overhead, leaving trails of greasy smoke across the damp grey sky. The sound of their engines unnerved him, they had ever since the Bridgeway's collapse. He fidgeted, his doors swinging back and forth, betraying his silent agitation as his finger squeezed and released the trigger guard of his weapon.

The rattle off to the side of him was close and unexpected. Instantly, he swung around to see the courier scrabbling up the side of the hill. Bluestreak's rifle stock rested against his shoulder as he steadied the weapon in his hands, watching as the Decepticon frantically bounded up one slick shelf of slick rock to the other. He focused his targeting scope on the point just underneath the middle of her spoiler and waited for her to catch the top of the slope. Experience had taught him that was exactly where someone hesitated when climbing, and that often would be the only chance you had at a clear shot. She wouldn't escape this time and blithely lead someone else that he cared about into a trap.

_"Bluestreak... hold your fire." _

Startled by the unexpected transmission, the gunner's rifle jumped in his hands just as the girl scrambled over the edge of the concrete retaining wall.

"_Prowl?" _

"_They're retreating. Our priority is... safety of the humans. Don't want... to bring them back to bomb the dam. Flooding." _

"_Yes sir. Understood." _

Bluestreak wasn't surprised when the courier paused briefly at the top of the rise, one foot lifted off the ground as if she was unsure where to place it down. However, the gunner did find himself startled when she turned her head and glanced over her shoulder back the way she had come instead of the way she was going to run. Her gaze flicked down over the path she had taken up the hill. Briefly, their optics met.

Angrily, he flared his doors and lowered his head, glaring at her before he slowly let his rifle slide down in his hands and pointedly looked away, back to where Prowl was being gently peeled away from the concrete.

The strip of metal across the girl's shoulders quirked slightly she followed Bluestreak's view to where the tactician leaned heavily against Hound and Ratchet. Then, it sagged against her back as she hurriedly eyed the woods below.

When the gunner bothered to scan up again, the Decepticon was gone, replaced by the deep rumble of Prime's idling engine. Ironhide and Jazz were there as well, framing the Autobot leader. Prime had an interesting dent in his bumper; suspiciously, it appeared to be shaped like Megatron's skidplate.

"How's he doing?"

"Alive, and stable at the moment," Ratchet called back. "But we could use a hand getting him out of here."

Jazz's grin was as wide as his visor as he slapped Ironhide on the back. "Let's go find us an elevator. Unless you have a parachute handy?"

* * *

Fifty miles away, there was nothing left of the rain forest. Ground exposed by quick and dirty logging was at the mercy of the wind and the rain, which had eroded big pits into the footing that were red and slippery with bands of porous clay. The grass tufts poking up through the poor soil were dead and brown. Remnants of the large trees that had once towered here remained merely as splintered stumps. Twined into the sparse undergrowth was rusting tread of a bulldozer, shed off of a broken truck like a plated, tattered snake-skin. 

Standing here, surrounded by the chemical laden scents of the wounded, Dart shifted her weight from one foot to the other and tried to clear her nose. The trees on the edges of the clearing were grey skeletons, twisting bent spines towards the equally grey sky above.

The mood of the Decepticons that had regrouped in the cut seemed equally matched with the hard-logged desolation of the landscape. Most of them sported some sort of injury. Huddled in a circle, the Constructicons supported Mixmaster between them, the green bulk of their bodies facing outward towards any incoming danger like a herd of oxen as they grumbled and muttered to themselves.

Starscream was ranting and raving about nothing and everything, pacing in circles while Megatron appeared to be about three seconds from bending the Air Commander in half and shoving his head up his afterburners.

"That sucked," Thundercracker muttered.

"No kidding," Frenzy echoed, holding his hand to his head. His cracked visor peeked out from between his fingers, and the small robot groaned at the multiple, fractured images drilling into his head.

"Second that," Swindle replied, rubbing at the deep dent in his side.

"Third," Dead End offered in a morose chorus.

"What happened, anyway?" Thundercracker said peeling a long tatter of metal off of the edge of his damaged wing. He held it between his thumb and forefinger before he flicked it away.

"I'll tell you what happened," Skywarp sputtered at Thundercracker as his pale face twisted into a rictus-mask of fury. Wings rattling, the mech's hands balled into fists as he stalked forward towards his fellow jet.

Rumble glanced up at the flurry of motion, eyed Frenzy, then shrugged at him before he went back to picking out slivers of metal from the crease in his shoulder. Fuel welled; the small Decepticon groaned and stuck his finger under a crisped wire, wrenching it free. On Soundwave's forearm, Laserbeak clacked his serrated beak and rattled his wings as if he was the reflection of the silent blue mech's inner thoughts. The bird dipped his head and rubbed it against his side, then went back to glaring at everyone nearby, optics burnished with frustration.

Dart found herself shifting from foot to foot, sniffing the air and casting glances at the woods behind them. She more than half expected to hear the Autobots driving in, gunning their engines for another assault.

Exhausted, and recognizing that it was going to be a long run back to the base, she forced herself to try and relax, to take advantage of this brief breather and cool down her systems. Slowly, she cocked her toe and eased her weight over her right foot, stretching her ankle until the joint popped.

Her nose itched, and she brought up her fingers to scratch the spot.

A sharp, gasoline-familiar scent shoved past her intakes. Reflexively, she sidestepped to the left again and glanced nervously around before she realized that the odor was caused by the fact her nose was inches from the thin gash in her forearm. Drawn towards the smell, she angled her jaw and sniffed along the torn edges of the metal.

It was fuel. Dart's nose traced the greasy latticework of trails nearly to her elbow, patterned by speed. Hovering over the wound again, her sensors attempted to explain to her the severity of the damage through scent. Gingerly, she nosed at the ripped plating. Oozing dampness caught her attention; absentmindedly, she mouthed it off to get a better view of the cut.

Deep, but apparently superficial. Dart flexed her hand, touched her thumb to each fingertip at a time. Metal clicked softly; her index joint was hesitant to bend at first, but then it smoothed out and everything seemed to work just fine. Thank goodness. At least she wouldn't have to hear about how she was wasting more valuable time in the repair bay...

A quick glance towards Starscream followed this thought, but he was now merely kicking around a tree stump, swearing under his breath. Damn the Autobots, damn them all, once again, they'd had a chance to get the upper hand, but no, all this for pomp and a stupid idiotic waste of time. They should have just killed him back at base and tossed his head in the ocean.

Well, at least they were gone, not hunting down each and every Decepticon, bent on revenge.

_No, his friends just wanted to get him out of there safely. They came back for him... I'm glad, he didn't- _

A lavender hand slapped down hard into the center of her chest. Caught off guard, Dart was knocked off balance; she threw up both hands with a high-pitched yelp that echoed around the brooding pillars of the wounded. Someone laughed, and there was a note of eager delight in the sound; apparently, once again, it was funny when someone was hurting and it wasn't them.

"This thing!" Skywarp snarled, glaring at Thundercracker. "Her."

Immediately, Dart glanced around and found herself half expecting for some stupid reason that some other female Decepticon would waltz her way out of the group. Oh, wait, no... Her. Right.

Skywarp's finger jabbed her in the chest again. Carefully, she backed up a few more steps, ducking away from his reach.

"Don't even deny it," he growled.

"Deny what?"

"Deny what?" he simpered girlishly back, shifting his weight over his hip and flicking his fingertips into her face. "You nearly got me killed, you moron. Wait, you nearly got us all killed, now that I think about it."

Dart managed not to ask if she needed to run and find him his purse in case he wanted to go out later on tonight. _Wow. I hope I never sound like that, being a girl. _Slowly, she dropped her hands down to the panniers on her hips, resting her palms on the edge, her thumb apprehensively clicking the magnetic lock open and shut.

"Huh?"

"You led the Autobots right back to us. You might want to think about something called evasive maneuvers!"

"I was running away," she offered. "I thought that was being pretty evasive."

Thundercracker looked from one black mech to the other, and then he shook his head, frowning. "Yeah. Dragging old Prowly out here and stapling him right to the middle of the dam had nothing to do with them finding us, 'Warp. Those Autobots never figure that sort of thing out all on their own, no way."

Skywarp glowered at Thundercracker. The blue Decepticon merely shrugged, his forefinger scratching listlessly at a scorch mark on his arm.

"Come on, it's the truth," he said after a moment.

"Look, I don't care what the truth is. What it comes down to is what she did is not how things work around here. You know, if we screw up we just don't get to say, 'oh, it's over now, doesn't matter, ha ha'."

Dart eased her weight from one foot to the other. Thundercracker shook his head and shrugged slightly. The courier continued to hesitate, and then looked up at Skywarp. Her optics met the taller mech's, then immediately slid away and focused on the grey line of clouds shrouding the hills. "What do you want me to say?"

There was a brief moment as the dark mech rooted around in his processor for a response. He threw one arm over the other, crossing them over the shattered glass of his cockpit. There was the slow, deliberate creak of metal as one of his wing-flaps rocked back and forth. Red optics narrowed as he glared at her, working his jaws from side to side.

"'Sorry I ruined the execution' might be a real good start," he threatened.

Dart scuffed her toe into the ground, digging a hole in the dirt. Robot or human, it didn't matter; it was hard to say you were sorry for something that you honestly didn't feel that sorry about. Her gaze wandered back around and finally settled on the distant tree line. There, the pines rustled, branches feathering softly in the rising wind. Ravage sat with his back to the Decepticons, ears pricked to the green woods. A jay fluttered over the cat's head, hopping stiff-legged from stripped branch to branch as it cawed down curses at the robots who'd dared to invade his territory.

The courier's spoiler flattened down, one incremental, cautious click at a time. All she wanted right now was to go home; well, back to that submerged spacecraft and find a quiet place to get out of the way for a while, tucked away in the corner. Right now, she didn't even care if it was in that filthy, watery storage room. Hey, at least no one else would bother following her down there.

She let a sigh bubble out of the gap between her lips. Oh well, hopefully they'd pump out the worst of the water sometime.

Skywarp's shadow loomed and dragged her attention back to him.

"Say it," he encouraged her in the way that normally proceeded a thug sliding on a pair of brass knuckles, eager to drive his point straight into someone's face and knock out a few teeth on the way in. Leaning forward, he grinned as he exhaled a large gust of air from his cooling systems.

It reeked of overheated metal and rubber. Dart brought up her hand automatically to her nose and made a jerky, pawing motion, as if she was trying to wipe his smell out of her olfactory sensors; scrub it out with force. The side of her wrist scraped against her cheek.

"Okay," she mumbled finally. "I ruined it, if that's what you want to hear. There. Are we done now?"

"Not hardly," he insisted, grinning down at her.

Her jaws clamped tight as her hand dropped back to her side.

"You know, I didn't think so, but I couldn't help but hope."

Immediately, the grin glowered away.

"You making fun of me?"

"Y- no."

Thundercracker's cough grated in the background. She glanced over, and then realized that he had his knuckles pressed against his throat and there was an uncomfortable look on his face; apparently, he'd damaged his vocalizer in the battle. Dart glanced up and over at him. Maybe if she just politely backed off, he'd offer some assistance... no, he honestly seemed to have focused completely on the discussion happening not too far off between Starscream and Megatron. Okay, it was a yelling match, but that often seemed to be their idea of a discussion.

She pawed at the ground with her toe. Dirt scuffed aside, driven by restless motion.

"You know, there's nothing more to really talk about. They're gone. We're going. It's done."

"Oh no, that's not how things work around here."

Dart groaned softly to herself. _Great. Here it comes. _

"You already said that once. I remember it from the first time."

Tight-lipped, she sidestepped warily to the left to skirt around him, ankles crossing over one another in a restless jig of motion and nervous tension.

Skywarp shifted his weight over his heels and put his fingers up to his mouth as if he was stifling a yawn of boredom. The slit of his left optic watched her until she was nearly past him, and then he turned abruptly into her path. The leading edge of his wing clashed against her wounded shoulder.

Dart yelped and ducked aside. Her fingers came up to clamp against the ragged tear, protecting it from another hit. Fuel welled up between her fingers.

"Heh. Whoops. But hey, you're right. It's over now, we can move on. Sure, you bet."

"Yeah. Me with my running and you with your teleporting, sounds good," Dart gritted. Slowly, she lifted her hand away from her shoulder and glanced down at the smear of greasy shine clinging to her fingers before she quickly wiped it on the dust-streaked grey metal of her thigh.

The jet-mech's mouth wrenched itself into an even uglier expression, if that was possible. "What are you implying.?" he snapped.

Dart honestly hadn't thought to imply anything until that moment. To her, it had just been an offhanded comment, something to say to prove to him that she could ignore all the bullying he could dish out towards her. However, with his response came dawning realization. _Wait a minute..._

"They were here when I ran in from my patrol," she said slowly. "They were already here and fighting when I got back. So I couldn't have led them here - they already knew where you guys were."

The side of Skywarp's face twitched back into a sneer. "Don't even think what you're thinking. This was your fault. Just because they were here first means nothing, you understand me? It's all your fault."

"That's not my fault," she replied, her voice low as she rushed through her words. "It has nothing to do with me, but you're trying to make it have something to do with me. I mean, I'll take the blame for dodging under your arm, that _was_ totally my fault, I didn't see you there. I was just trying to avoid getting a bullet to the head or worse."

"Can't blame her there," Thundercracker agreed. Apparently he was somehow managing to listen to both conversations at once.

"Shut up, 'Cracker. So, what, it's okay for her to dodge a bullet if it leads to me being punched in the face?"

Thundercracker shrugged. "Hey, I'm sure there's more than a few of us who've done it. Even accidentally, like Dart there, of course." His remaining wing flicked lazily back as he turned his attention back onto Starscream and Megatron.

"I didn't mean it that way. All I meant was that the Autobots here wasn't my fault," Dart replied cautiously, unsure what else to say. "Look, I've apologized, okay? Just leave me alone."

Optics narrowed. "Why, what are you going to do if I don't? Run away?"

The black mech thrust his palm towards her, ready to shove her off her feet, knock her back down.

"Don't touch me," she snapped. Her foot lifted on its own accord. Support rods in her knee flexed and chattered with tension.

Skywarp eyed her leg. He flinched back a step, remembering just how it felt to have her kick out the side of your knee. Embarrassed by his reaction and furious that she was the one who had caused it, this skinny, useless, ground bound mechanism, he snapped his wings forward and lunged toward her with an angry, challenging grunt.

Instantly, Dart countered his driving motion with a rumble curling out of her throat. It sounded as if the engine of her alt-mode was being given slow gas to raise the rotations per minute to a rattling over-idle. She backed up a step, stiff-legged, spoiler bristling over her shoulders.

Skywarp bullied past her warning, and as his fingertips grazed the sharp-edged sigil on her chest, Dart instantly swung her shoulders and slapped his hand away as hard as she possibly could.

"I said, don't."

Skywarp shook his hand out and glowered. Someone laughed again, probably the same someone who'd laughed at her yelp earlier. Dart felt herself thinking an ugly little thought that she wished that they were in her position, because she would have been more than willing to point and laugh at them instead. Jerk.

"You were the one who led them to us," Skywarp reiterated, as if he was pointing out to a small child that round pegs didn't go into square holes, no matter how much you pounded on them with a plastic hammer. "And this time, even Screamer can't cover up for your incompetence. You understand me, girly?"

Cornered by words and pinned down by the vicious intent of his body language, Dart felt herself go from apologetic to irate in the sort of quarter-mile numbers her Trans-Am alt mode would have appreciated. The girl narrowed her optics into slits of sharp blue. She'd had enough of the situation, every last bit of it, starting with the fact that Skywarp was a jackass, continuing on with someone out there thought it was really funny to watch her get berated, and then came down to the checkmate, which was that it didn't matter what she thought anymore. What was she going to do about it? Complain to Megatron? Ha ha. She'd get right on that and then scrape that mass of wires and pipes that now passed for her guts out of the floor boards.

"God, Skywarp, I'm not entirely stupid," she snapped, tossing her head as she weaved back and forth from foot to foot, jittering in place; motion and movement attempting to physically drive away her frustration. It failed miserably, and Dart's brain gathered up reins of resentment and smashed them against every intelligent thought the courier might have had about shutting her mouth, calling it quits, and trotting away. "I totally understand. You're covering up for the fact you dropped Sideswipe in the riv-"

There was enraged shriek of a jet engine powering up to full throttle.

* * *

Rainwater drooled from the limbs of the pines as if it was a dog on a hot day, lying in the middle of the road. 

Crab-grass blades magnified this close had serrated edges, slim green steak knives made out of cellulose and chlorophyll. A drop of water trickled slowly down from the tip. A crane fly curled itself up out of the thatch, and through the transparent shimmer of its wings, Dart could see dark grey sky.

Her chin hurt horribly. When she shifted her head slightly, her audios shrieked with feedback and overload. Dazed, she walked her hand to her jaw and realized by touch that it was obviously askew; a jolt of pain confirmed the damage.

A shadow loomed over her. She flinched before realizing that it was red optics gleaming out of a vaguely robot shaped black hole in the tilting horizon.

"Are you on-line?"

Dart hesitated, not completely sure before she nodded vaguely in what she thought was an upward direction.

"Ah. Good. Can you stand?"

Wing-flaps flicking, Starscream's voice echoed his body's impatience.

Right. Moving. Electronic relays re-booted her last directive, the snap of impulse and thought combining to drive her forward. For a frightening second, Dart lost control of her body and thrashed about on the ground, legs churning the air. Systems insisted that she move, keep running, remember that the safest place to be was on her feet, but it took her a few times to calibrate them before she was able to direct her limbs enough to roll onto her hip. Arms outstretched, palms flat on the wet ground; she sat and panted. Three long draws of air later, she became a flurry of metal and scattered grass, heaved herself back on her feet. The tattletale spoiler muttered out an angry complaint about being wedged underneath her weight for an extended amount of time.

"Anything you'd like to tell me about what happened?"

Dart thought long and hard about this question.

"Ow."

There, that summed it all up in one simple word. Which was good, because talking required that she open her mouth. Right at this moment the hinge of her jaw felt like she'd jammed a mechanical pencil between her teeth and tapped out the lead until it forced its way underneath a molar and broke off. Not that she'd ever done that before. Or ended up waiting in the nurse's office for two hours before they'd sent her home.

Well, not that she'd done it more than once. Really.

"Besides the obvious?" Starscream pressed.

"Not really, no," she mumbled back.

Starscream started to shrug, hissed in a breath, and instead, he lifted a browplate slightly at her response. On his left shoulder, a deep puncture wound sizzled blue sparks. A rivulet of black fuel wound down his arm and slunk to ground off the end of his fingertips. The wet, crushed grass smell of the clearing was drizzled thickly over with the odor of cordite and burning wires. Dart snorted and resisted the urge to press her face back into the ground to scrub out her intakes with the musky smell of dirt.

With a sigh that rattled his internal framework, the Air Commander shook his head.

Dart's hand came up to the back of her neck, and her fingers rubbed gingerly at a spot under the edge of her helm. Deciding not to chance any more words, she merely dropped her chin to her chest in a slow echo of a nod before she realized that moving her head hurt worse than speaking after all.

Starscream shifted his weight onto his left hip and sighed. "It's not broken, you know. Merely out of alignment. Shift."

Flinching her spoiler back, the courier started to crouch down in the flattened grass, fingers spread for balance.

"Oh, for the love of – not transform shift. Just move your blasted jaw."

Foolishly, Dart pushed herself back up and stood still, working her mouth slightly as if she was chewing the air. There was a sharp pop, and the courier crow-hopped as the hinge of her jaw slid where it belonged. She brought her hand up to the side of her face, rubbed at it with the ball of her thumb. There was a creak as her spoiler sagged down, the curved tips nearly flat with relief.

"Better, yes?" he asked.

"Yeah... thanks," she replied, turning her head from side to side. "Where– wait, everyone's gone?"

A soft grunt escaped him as he glanced around the area. "Yes. The orders were given to return to base. You do know, that by carrying you with me partway, I took a dangerous chance with Megatron. If it wasn't for the fact that he's too ashamed to face me over this entire fiasco, I have no doubt that he would have tossed off the comment to leave you behind again."

"Oh."

"Not that I would have," he said quickly, appearing thoughtful.

Dart shifted her weight onto her other foot as she offered up a blink of surprise that faded into a grateful nod. "Thanks. Really."

He nodded back, slowly. "What happened with Skywarp, Dart?"

"Uh... I'm not sure after that first punch."

"I meant before that."

The courier stiffened slightly and ducked her head. "Oh. Yeah, well, he tried to shove the blame for the Autobots showing up onto me, that's all. I didn't. I swear, I didn't, that's all, and then it just got out of hand, I guess. I know, I know... me and my death wish, right?"

She managed a rueful grin as she rubbed her jaw with the back of her hand.

Starscream shook his head. A wheezy chuckle escaped him and rattled the bent frame of his chest canopy. "For once? No. Although, running out in front of Prime wasn't exactly an amazing display of intelligence."

Dart couldn't help laughing, even though it hurt. "Running away from him was though. It should balance itself out, right?"

"Perhaps," he agreed. "Oh, yes, as for Skywarp, there was a, ah - discussion. He's to leave you alone from now on."

Dart glanced up, unsure, and trying to equate an emotion with his tone, but Starscream had already turned away from her and she knew that conversation was over. Maybe she'd get an answer later, but she wasn't expecting one.

"We need to get back to base," he informed her, glancing nervously at the horizon as he paced off a few steps. Under his heels, jet exhaust wavered, torching the wet grass into crisp black lines. Surging upwards, he lifted ungainly into the foggy air. Thrusters wisping and hissing off moisture with yellow heat, he listed to the left, then regained his balance, hovering.

"I can't carry you any farther," he said, pointing to his injured arm. "You'll have to run it."

Dart hesitated. Sore and exhausted, the prospect of trotting across the landscape and then diving into the freezing Pacific Ocean was daunting, to say the least. But, the fact that Starscream had stayed and waited for her, and... well, everything else?

"Well?"

"I can run it," she said, pulling herself upright as she laced her hands behind her back. "Back to base, right?"

"Yes. Let's go home," he said. A second later, he'd swept himself into the air, leaving behind only the echo of his transformation.

Watching as he disappeared into the haze, she hesitated, then shook her arms down to the fingertips and she stretched out, flexing down on one knee and then the other. Then, she redirected her weight forward, crouched down as if she was setting herself up for a sprint down a red cinder track. Dart's foot pressed into the wet earth, her calves tightened, and she drew a long, rattling pull of air down into her intakes, held it within her chest.

"Right," she said quietly again after a moment. Her words slipped out and curled along the heat of her cooling systems. In her shoulders, the rotators clicked and whirred as her fuel pump surged, spurred on by anticipation and electrical impulse. "Back to base."

Sullen and grey, the Pacific Northwest sky above finally gave into its promise of rain. The first drop spattered across the curve of her shoulder right before the second splashed into the bridge of her nose. Dart stood up, pausing to listen to the cool sound of the water as it chimed down across her plating. Then, with a laugh and a wry grin to herself, the courier broke into a trot before easing swiftly into a ground eating lope that carried her into the fir trees and out of sight.


End file.
